Howdy pardner

So after filling out an application, sitting through 2 interviews, taking a personality evaluations test, and peeing in a cup, Wal-Mart has decided that my seven years as a manager in the high tech and commercial security field is not enough to serve as a security guard at the Super Wal-Mart (maybe you need to provide your own cape), and my 17 years as a photographer and lab tech are not enough to work the one hour photo machine.

I knew I should have brushed up on my peeing.

Upon hearing this report, I decided to drown my sorrows the old fashioned way- a dark, smokey bar… a glass of ice, the ice swirling in a deep amber liquid… a small straw to stir it all up…the sound the ice makes as it clinks the sides of the glass…the way the bar lights dance as they reflect off the whole, beautiful sight…

So there I was in front of my Diet Coke with a cherry at Matt’s Saloon on Prescott’s Historic Whiskey Row. Matt’s Saloon is what’s called a Cowboy Bar. And oddly enough, I met a cowboy in there. He was an old, skinny, white cowboy with a huge hat.

He was drunk and loud.

My kinda’ guy.

I had a date that night with my wife and I had about an hour or so to kill, so I went on a pub crawl and started at Matt’s.

I sat, drank my Diet Coke, and listened. I had hoped to hear some tales of the Wild West, life on the range, learn about poking cows and punchin’ doggies.

But old skinny white cowboy with a huge hat had other problems on his mind- had his stock been rustled? Had his stake been grubbed?

He looked my way, set his drink down and sneered at me from under the brim of his great big hat. He walk..no, he moseyed on over and leaned against the bar next to me. He leaned in close. I waited, maybe he was going to aks me on over to join’ up with his posse, maybe hunt down some varmints.

Old skinny white cowboy with a huge hat said “Conniger”. I said nice to meet you, I’m Santos. He said “No dummy. Conniger. Who played him? I know it wasn’t Tom Sellick”. I said what? “Conniger- the western. Who played Conniger. It was some guy, but it wasn’t Magnum, it was the other guy”. I told him I know the title, but sorry pardner, I ain't seen the flick. “Well it’s right on the tippy tip (yes he said ‘tippy tip’) of my tongue”.

Old skinny white cowboy with a huge hat then approached the rest of the folks in the bar, asking them if they new the guy that was on the tippy tip of his tongue that was the other guy not Magnum. No one did and the barkeep, a young gal knee high to a whippersnapper told him to shut up and sit down.

Well, you know what? He did. And as soon as his butt hit the stool he yelled “Sam Elliott!” and walked out of the bar.

All work and no play

I’ve spent the first few weeks in Paulden unpacking, sorting through stuff that I haven’t seen in years. My last major move was from Hayward, CA in a 3 bedroom, 1200 sq ft home with a 2 car garage to Gilroy, CA- a small cottage of about 600 sq ft. This meant that for the past 3 or so years, all my stuff has been in storage.

Now I live in a nice 3 bedroom place, 1 car garage, and I have access to my stuff. I can play with my old cameras, I can set up my darkroom, I can watch my movies, I can read my books, I can look at all my old pictures, I can… well, you get the picture.

Unfortunately, what I should be doing is looking for a job so I can pay for the house so I can have a place to play with my stuff.

Originally I thought that I would transfer my old job from CA to the office in the Phoenix area, about 90 miles or so south of here. Then I thought, well, I don’t wanna.

Why drive almost 2 hours to do what I was so anxious to get away from? That and they didn’t have a job for me.

So I figured, the cost of living is less, I can afford to live on a lower wage, why not work right here in town? So I began driving around town to scout out prospective employers. I got in my truck, backed out of the driveway, and headed for downtown Paulden.

I reached the end of the road and then, well there was no then ‘cause that was downtown. Paulden consists of one store about the size of my garage that is painted hot pink and the main qualification to work there seems to be the ability to smoke 4 packs a day, and a second store/gas station/video rental that “ain’t hiring” says the 11 fingered girl working the register. I suppose the extra finger helps her ring things up faster.

The next town over is Chino Valley- somewhat bigger, but I decided to peddle myself in the Prescott Metro area- this is a city of about 43 or so thousand folks- several car dealers, a Super Wal-Mart (with another on the way), a Costco, Home depot, real life Mall and all kinds of other opportunities for a fine upstanding guy like me.

First stop was the Wal-Mart. I entered the store, headed for the Customer service desk to inquire as to career opportunities, but I got side tracked by a fabulous display of bargain priced DVD’s.

That Wal-Mart marketing team is on the ball.

In an effort to fully understand the Wal-Mart Mission Statement, I spent the next few days watching my new DVD collection. Ozzie and Harriett never looked as good as they do digitally re-mastered.

Remember, all work and no play means that you never get a chance to see your stuff.

Fresh and clean

My second trip to Arizona went much smoother than the last.

I left on Friday October 22 at 5:30 am. I loaded up the Toyota with the remainder of my junk, whatever clothes I had left in the state, and my traveling posse of Charles Finkelstein and Magdalene Mayfield- AKA Charlie and Maggie, my 2 smelly dogs.

It was overall an un-eventful trip. The truck ran fine, the dogs slept most of the way, the strippers and hookers left me alone, and we all three arrived safe and sound.

The only speed bump, and I mean that quite literally, was Charley’s deposit of the previous nights re-cycled dinner on the lawn in front of the Bakersfield Auto Zone. California had been my home all of my life.

I have some very fond memories, some not so fond, some down right terrifying, and some memories that don’t exist.

Much of the late eighties and early nineties are a big blur, melting into aches and pains and some scars.

Not that I didn’t have fun because I think at times I did. I met some fascinating people, did some amazing things, and made some life long friends.

But I also wasted a lot of time- time I will never get back. I always wonder when I hear people say things like “well, I’m not proud of what I did, but I don’t regret anything I’ve done” or stuff like that. Trust me- there is much I am not proud of, there are many things I am downright ashamed of, there are many days, shoot, months that I wish I could jump in the way-back-machine and completely erase.

I view my move as a way to start fresh- not that I am running away from anything- trust me, those records will be around for many years to come and the pictures will last even longer. I just thought that it would be best to wipe some slates clean- to start with a clean page and see what tumbles out.
A sort of parole if you will. I don’t know if it’s the altitude, the fresh air, or what.

I just know I’m breathing a whole lot easier now.

Go east young man

I’ve spent the last several weeks getting settled- I admit, it took much longer than expected.

In late September I left the Bay Area at precisely 12 noon on a beautiful Sunday in a 24 foot Budget truck, loaded top to bottom, left to right, in back and in the cab. I headed out on what should have been an 11 or so hour drive from Gilroy, Ca across to I5 south, through to Bakersfield, over to Needles, on into Arizona via I40 east.

Final destination was to be Prescott, AZ- my oldest brother’s new home town. Prescott is about 25 miles south of my new home town of Paulden. The plan being that I drive out on this fine Sunday, deliver all of my worldly possessions to a soon to be rented storage unit, then return to the bay area for my final two weeks of work and to, um, tie up all loose ends.

My wife was to follow me out in our van as one half of a caravan. The second half was our old friend Dan the Man in his car. They were scheduled to leave Gilroy on Monday morning at day break. She would stay at my brothers- find a job, finalize the transfer of the house, and I would return to the Bay Area with Dan the Man.

I was to return in 2 weeks with my two doggies in my truck, to my new home, find a job, and live happily ever after.

This, of course, was the plan- my plan- so it was not to be.

All went well, for the first few hours. I entertained myself by singing along to whatever classic rock station would come in. Reception was poor- the radio was an older AM/FM but no tape or CD player. The stations would fade in and out depending on where my head was positioned in relation to the left side view mirror and the passenger windshield wiper. I found that I could here Bob Seager when the wipers were on, the driver window was ¾ up, and my left nostril was clogged. AC/DC was best with the right wing open, the glove box closed, and my left index finger in my right ear. Oddly enough, Country stations and radio preachers came in loud and clear at all times.

Very disappointing as I do not like country music and I’m beyond saving.

As the sun set and the stations faded, I chose the lesser of 2 evils and locked in on a station that claimed to play the best of all kinds of music- Country and Western.

Several weeks prior to my departure, Stevo “Wonderbread” Tavares played for me a Buck Owens hit- Tiger by the Tail- a song I had never before heard. Within 3 hours between Baron, CA and Kingman, AZ I heard this classic 3 times.

I reached Kingman at around 10 pm. I had stopped several times on the road and was running about an hour or so behind. After 4 Rock Stars, 3 Red Bulls, and 2 Buck Owens I had the shakes but was getting tired. I decided that if I got too tired I would pull over, call my brother and let him know I would see him in the morning.

I pulled into a little truck stop gas station on the west side of Kingman and filled up with diesel. It was late and I was tired, so I went inside to buy a padlock for the roll up on the truck. I figured I could sleep some and arrive in Prescott around sun up.

I grabbed a cheapo lock, about 8 bucks worth and paid with a fifty. The clerk, who looked like Benny Hill in drag, rang me up and handed me 40 dollars in singles. I thought this strange and told her so, asking if she had any bigger bills. She laughed and said “I thought you were going out back”.

“Out back” turned out to be what looked like a hamburger stand but was in reality Kingman Az very own roadside stip clu… sorry, “Gentlemens Club”. I know this, not because I went in, but because when Benny Hill said “out back” I looked “out back” and saw 2 women about 52 years old, whose teeth have long ago decided that Kingman AZ was no place for respectable teeth to be, leaning up against a hamburger stand. I’ not sure, but I think I saw the pretty one smoking out of the hole in her neck.

I decided that I wasn’t that tired after all and got back in the truck and headed east.

An hour or so and a Buck Owens later, I arrived in what Arizonians call Seligman, the rest of us call it a gas station with a coffee pot. I pulled in and said hi to Gil behind the counter and some lady eating Cheetoes and poured myself what us truckers call “a cup of coffee”.

I got back in the truck ready to roll. The truck however was not. It would not start, no juice, no lights, no Buck Owens, no nothin’.

Hey, no problem, I had a 24 hour road side service number for budget for just such an emergency. After several attempts, I found that when Budget says “24 Hours” they don’t mean in a row. I then tried my AAA roadside service number, they’ll have someone out in one hour- that should mean I would be talking to a tow truck driver at around 11 pm, I would be on the road at about 11 20 or so, and in Prescott before 1 am. Good enough I said, please have the driver bang on the truck as I would be napping in the cab.

I shut my eyes and it seemed like only minutes later, there was a knock on my door. Wait, it was only minutes and this was no tow truck driver it was Cheeto lady. Had I forgot to pay? Not yet anyway. It seems as though this particular Chevron also caters to the more, lets say, carnal fuel. I assured her that I was quite fine waiting alone, and that if she was looking for more teeth to accompany the orange pair she now had, she could head west about an hour.

I woke at 2:30, and called AAA again. I was told that the driver was on his way, sorry for the delay. He did arrive at about 4:15, looked under the hood, obviously didn’t recognize much because he didn’t bother to touch anything, and said “I don’t even know where the battery is on these thing”, then closed the hood, got in his truck and left.

I re-entered the Gas 'n' Girl to call trips A and complain, but after 15 minutes on hold decided to try Budget once again. I evidently caught them between breaks and was told cheerfully by Dave the operator that he would be happy to send out a replacement vehicle within the hour and I could be on my way. I asked if they would also be sending out a moving crew to transfer all of my stuff to the new truck. Dave the operator said “maybe it would be better to send out a guy to try and start the truck”. I nominate Dave the operator for employee of the month. Dave the operator employee of the month told me that a tow truck would be out in 1 hour or less. That was at 4:35 am. Tow truck guy pulled up at 7:05 am. I was tired.

I arrived in Prescott at about 8 am on Monday September 20th. Tired, grumpy, and fully expecting that my wife and Dan the Man were enroute.

I called the Mrs. cell phone “were leaving in about a half hour”. Well, I was about 9 hours late, how could I complain? Dan the Man is notorious for being late, 8:30 was a pretty god start time for him. Ok 8:30 it is. I decided to take a shower and crash out.

10:45- “where are you guys now?” expecting, oh, Bakersfield at least. “we decided to get breakfast, we’re leaving for the restaurant in a few minutes”. Still at home? “yes”. Oh well, driving cars, not a truck, they’ll make good time.

11:50- “where are you guys now?”. “Just leaving the café”. Hey, people gotta eat, right?

1:20- “where are you guys now?”. “Just leaving the gas station”. Can’t drive with no gas, right?

2:15- “where are you guys now?”. “Just leaving the house, we forgot something”. Good thing they remembered while they were still close to home, right?

3:45- “where are you guys now?”. “Just leaving the store, we needed to pick up some stuff for the road”. Gotta have supplies, right?

4:10- “where are you guys now?”. “Just leaving the tire store- thought I’d get the tires rotated before the trip”. Better safe than sorry, right?

5:15- “where are you guys now?”. “We're going to eat dinner before we hit the road”. Hey, people gotta ea… wait, already used that. WHAT”S GOING ON? They’re 12 hours behind schedule and they haven’t left Gilroy yet!!

At 6:30, I got a call to inform me that as it’s getting dark, they’ll leave in the morning.

Bright and early.

At the crack of noon.

Wife and Dan the Man arrived on Wednesday morning at about 6 am- approximately 49 hours after they started an 11 hour drive and 24 hours before Dan the Man and I were scheduled to return to the bay area.

I decided then and there- I would do the driving on that trip.