I don't think my wife would agree with the sentiment, but after six weeks in the pound I expect it might ring true for Cheyenne. 
I did not notice the sign underneath until I got home but you can read the site at Key West Week in my web list. I expect I should tweet it or link it or something. This is more my speed, a printed newspaper, but I have to ask why did some dork feel the need to leave a coffee cup here when there is a city trash can across the street? If I were God I would make better use of my thunderbolts.
I spend a great deal of time these days standing and staring into space while Cheyenne does her own version of trash clean up. Which prompted me to whip out the pocket camera and produce a series of disjointed pictures. 
Another variant of One Human Family. This one is a difficult one to live up to. Especially in winter. God help me I really try to be empathetic to snowbirds but by this stage in their annual migration I just want them to go home. They clutter my street, they clutter the commute, they clutter the citizen's voice with petulant whining and they clutter my brain so I start sounding like them. Enough!
This Jeep is a Kaiser 1969 CJ5 and it's owner likes to use it sparingly because he prefers to get around town on his bicycle. Apparently his neighbors (see rant above, I'm guessing) think it messes up the beauty of the roadway. How do I know? Read on. 
They used to have a time limit on street parking in Key West until one day, I'm told someone Important got their car towed while away on vacation. So the new rules state that a car may be left indefinitely on the street if it is in drivable condition with up to date registration. If it has a flat tire or broken window or is filled with junk it is considered abandoned and we (Police Dispatch) can get it towed. It seems the owner of the Jeep is getting called on his anti-internal -combustion stance by his neighbors. So he put a sign in the window for all to see.
I called him up to thank him for the sign and I think he was surprised to hear from me. Frankly it gets old being the middleman in disputes between neighbors arguing about on-street parking. I live in the county in a stilt house and I park underneath my house. It is an arrangement I like. If it was that important to me I would either a) live in a house with Off Street Parking in the city or b)move out to the county like me and burn hydrocarbons commuting. 
This is one of those things about living in cute old town Key West. Your neighbors are right next door and they may not be as tolerant as you might expect in a town packed this tightly together. Europeans have spent centuries learning to try to get along in their tight, cramped cities. It's going to take a few generations for Americans to master the art and here in Key West it's not a lesson easily learned by newcomers all starry eyed about moving to the Southernmost City. You know how I go on about offsets? Look at these three homes near Solares Hill.
Consideration of your neighbors should be in the rental contract or purchase agreement but it rarely is. People who go on to live for a long time, perhaps the rest of their lives, in Key West learn the art and practice it daily. Other people are gruesome neighbors or unhappy transplants and they are the ones that keep forcing their neighbors to call the police. Imagine living across the fence from someone who just drove you crazy?
I did not notice the sign underneath until I got home but you can read the site at Key West Week in my web list. I expect I should tweet it or link it or something. This is more my speed, a printed newspaper, but I have to ask why did some dork feel the need to leave a coffee cup here when there is a city trash can across the street? If I were God I would make better use of my thunderbolts.I spend a great deal of time these days standing and staring into space while Cheyenne does her own version of trash clean up. Which prompted me to whip out the pocket camera and produce a series of disjointed pictures. 
Another variant of One Human Family. This one is a difficult one to live up to. Especially in winter. God help me I really try to be empathetic to snowbirds but by this stage in their annual migration I just want them to go home. They clutter my street, they clutter the commute, they clutter the citizen's voice with petulant whining and they clutter my brain so I start sounding like them. Enough!This Jeep is a Kaiser 1969 CJ5 and it's owner likes to use it sparingly because he prefers to get around town on his bicycle. Apparently his neighbors (see rant above, I'm guessing) think it messes up the beauty of the roadway. How do I know? Read on. They used to have a time limit on street parking in Key West until one day, I'm told someone Important got their car towed while away on vacation. So the new rules state that a car may be left indefinitely on the street if it is in drivable condition with up to date registration. If it has a flat tire or broken window or is filled with junk it is considered abandoned and we (Police Dispatch) can get it towed. It seems the owner of the Jeep is getting called on his anti-internal -combustion stance by his neighbors. So he put a sign in the window for all to see.
I called him up to thank him for the sign and I think he was surprised to hear from me. Frankly it gets old being the middleman in disputes between neighbors arguing about on-street parking. I live in the county in a stilt house and I park underneath my house. It is an arrangement I like. If it was that important to me I would either a) live in a house with Off Street Parking in the city or b)move out to the county like me and burn hydrocarbons commuting. This is one of those things about living in cute old town Key West. Your neighbors are right next door and they may not be as tolerant as you might expect in a town packed this tightly together. Europeans have spent centuries learning to try to get along in their tight, cramped cities. It's going to take a few generations for Americans to master the art and here in Key West it's not a lesson easily learned by newcomers all starry eyed about moving to the Southernmost City. You know how I go on about offsets? Look at these three homes near Solares Hill.Consideration of your neighbors should be in the rental contract or purchase agreement but it rarely is. People who go on to live for a long time, perhaps the rest of their lives, in Key West learn the art and practice it daily. Other people are gruesome neighbors or unhappy transplants and they are the ones that keep forcing their neighbors to call the police. Imagine living across the fence from someone who just drove you crazy?The Rodel Foundation is no longer the Arts powerhouse it was in Key West, victim to some degree of the vanishing wealth scam that has struck most of us to some level or another. The newspaper reported recently the Key West Symphony is struggling to pay the musicians their wages and they've been holding fundraisers in the city to stage another performance of the Key West Nutcracker next Christmas. It's all a far cry from a few years ago when money was washing through the city like Wilma's floodwaters. Rodel wanted to buy the old Harris School on Southard Street to create an art center of some sort but the School District baulked and now some developer has paid a lot less money for the building (4.7 million I believe) and to my surprise the untouched old wreck is now up for lease?
There is an RV parked on the grounds, possibly to house a caretaker I thought, and "No Trespassing" signs have sprouted everywhere so one assumes work will begin soon to refurbish the building. I hope they lease it to interesting businesses but I wonder what those might be in a Great Recession? Not artists I doubt. I saw this piece of weirdness on Carstens Lane. Cheyenne was restless and I struggled to get the picture before she dragged me away.
I wonder what prompts someone to stick an artificial raven on the porch? So many questions, so little time.
This sign...
...prompted me to muse about the lawsuit currently being fought between the self styled Secretary General of the Conch Republic, a man who has made a business out of selling passports and paraphernalia relating to the celebration of a brief "Keys secession" in 1982. He claims rights on the annual celebration not on the name itself, so now business people in the Upper Keys want to do the same thing for their islands (which in my opinion in no way resemble any of the precepts that underlie the notion of the mythical Conch Republic) but they don't want to acknowledge his creative drive. And off they all go to court. 
Apparently the Secretary General is widening his commercial horizons at his office on Simonton Street. Perhaps the inability to spell "bicycle" or "kayak" is part of the charm, or else denotes a truly maverick spirit that has yet to learn how to use the spell checker. The words "Conch Republic" (properly spelled) I am sure we are relieved to learn are both in the common domain, until some giant corporation decides to sweep them up, no doubt. Far from the realm of the tribunals this sign seems to denote a gentle spirit that I find appealing.
And in consideration of parking problems alluded to earlier this scooter defines sensible transportation in a small town, or perhaps in any modern town: 
I was struck by the endless hand rail separating two properties in close proximity. What would Chuck Pefley do? I asked myself, in the rhetorical style of a man in Seattle with but one photograph per day.
And finally to end our ramble we go out to the backside of the airport where to my surprise we find this sign of refugees fleeing Communist oppression (and free health care) 90 miles to the south. I thought this plane was long gone but apparently not, it still sits next to Little Hamaca Park, a relic of a hijacking that brought some Cubans to the impoverished land of the free and home of the Tea Partiers:
A Cuban American family has gone to court in Miami and been granted a monetary award against the Cuban government which shot down a family member who apparently flew into Cuban airspace (an assertion stoutly denied by family members who weren't there). So now when an incident of hijacking takes place instead of returning the aircraft to Cuba as required by international law the planes are handed over to the grieving widow, as one more way to endlessly sour relations between our two countries. And here it sits, one last symbol of the Cold War stuck in limbo in Key West.
Actually it is secure behind a fence and this is what it really looks like from the public land on the city side of the airport fence:
It's a funny old world where this sort of nonsense can go on and on and on. Perhaps one day President Obama will put his big girl's blouse on and not only act like the leader of the majority party in Congress but also end the stupid embargo with a stroke of the presidential pen. I need to ride the Bonneville in the mountains of Cuba. At this rate Cheyenne will be dead before that can happen so I am putting the sidecar plans on hold. Blame the president for that one too.
There is an RV parked on the grounds, possibly to house a caretaker I thought, and "No Trespassing" signs have sprouted everywhere so one assumes work will begin soon to refurbish the building. I hope they lease it to interesting businesses but I wonder what those might be in a Great Recession? Not artists I doubt. I saw this piece of weirdness on Carstens Lane. Cheyenne was restless and I struggled to get the picture before she dragged me away.I wonder what prompts someone to stick an artificial raven on the porch? So many questions, so little time.This sign... ...prompted me to muse about the lawsuit currently being fought between the self styled Secretary General of the Conch Republic, a man who has made a business out of selling passports and paraphernalia relating to the celebration of a brief "Keys secession" in 1982. He claims rights on the annual celebration not on the name itself, so now business people in the Upper Keys want to do the same thing for their islands (which in my opinion in no way resemble any of the precepts that underlie the notion of the mythical Conch Republic) but they don't want to acknowledge his creative drive. And off they all go to court. 
Apparently the Secretary General is widening his commercial horizons at his office on Simonton Street. Perhaps the inability to spell "bicycle" or "kayak" is part of the charm, or else denotes a truly maverick spirit that has yet to learn how to use the spell checker. The words "Conch Republic" (properly spelled) I am sure we are relieved to learn are both in the common domain, until some giant corporation decides to sweep them up, no doubt. Far from the realm of the tribunals this sign seems to denote a gentle spirit that I find appealing.
And in consideration of parking problems alluded to earlier this scooter defines sensible transportation in a small town, or perhaps in any modern town: 
I was struck by the endless hand rail separating two properties in close proximity. What would Chuck Pefley do? I asked myself, in the rhetorical style of a man in Seattle with but one photograph per day.
And finally to end our ramble we go out to the backside of the airport where to my surprise we find this sign of refugees fleeing Communist oppression (and free health care) 90 miles to the south. I thought this plane was long gone but apparently not, it still sits next to Little Hamaca Park, a relic of a hijacking that brought some Cubans to the impoverished land of the free and home of the Tea Partiers:A Cuban American family has gone to court in Miami and been granted a monetary award against the Cuban government which shot down a family member who apparently flew into Cuban airspace (an assertion stoutly denied by family members who weren't there). So now when an incident of hijacking takes place instead of returning the aircraft to Cuba as required by international law the planes are handed over to the grieving widow, as one more way to endlessly sour relations between our two countries. And here it sits, one last symbol of the Cold War stuck in limbo in Key West.
Actually it is secure behind a fence and this is what it really looks like from the public land on the city side of the airport fence:It's a funny old world where this sort of nonsense can go on and on and on. Perhaps one day President Obama will put his big girl's blouse on and not only act like the leader of the majority party in Congress but also end the stupid embargo with a stroke of the presidential pen. I need to ride the Bonneville in the mountains of Cuba. At this rate Cheyenne will be dead before that can happen so I am putting the sidecar plans on hold. Blame the president for that one too.
19 comments:
Your post piqued my curiosity enough to visit the relevant Portland parking enforcement Web pages. In Portland, one is obligated to move one's vehicle parked in the public right-of-way every 24 hours if no other parking restrictions apply. Seattle bumped it up from 24 to 72 a few years ago.
In both cities, it's not unusual to see vehicles with four flat tires and moss growing on them happily reposing for weeks, if not months, in the same spot, in some neighborhoods, anyway.
I don't know about Portland, but in Seattle ratting out one's neighbor's vehicle to Parking Enforcement is a common act of passive aggression. You may recall the pathetic wretch who had my scooter tagged in West Seattle. The idea that one can claim the space in front of one's house as their own is also widespread in spite of the fact the parking code very clearly and emphatically states that's not the case. But lots of people in Seattle do it anyway, then bitch to Parking Enforcement (and are pissed off when informed of the ordnance).
Oh, well. The GTS has a driveway to park in. The neighborhood cats love it...
__Orin
Scootin' Old Skool
It's exactly the same in Key West. People get mad because they can't park in front of their homes. Some spaces are marked "Residential" and are reserved for cars with Monroe County tags (most counties in Florida issue license plates with the county name on them) which is why our cars have a Monroe license plates. Parking is one of those issues that drive people crazy.
On a side note I park outside the metered zone and plan to walk when I'm not riding the Bonneville. Why walking is so objectionable I'm sure i'll never know.
First, not to take ConchScooter for granted (an easy thing to do when something is consistent) I want to thank for his daily blog posts of his life.
Second, coming from the midwest with its land of Malls and large parking lots, I still recall the "vulture parkers" as they circle the rows waiting for a spot in the first 5 spaces to open up. Always overweight, middle aged. Funny thing is, sometimes they would be parking up close to do "mall walking" in the winter.
Interesting about the plane - how would the widow profit from it I wonder? She should lease it to site seeing company there in the Keys.
Parking close to the store is a fixation and i don't know why. I had to break my wife from the habit when I first met her and boy, did she get gruff...as to the plane the widow is supposedto be able to sell it or something but most Cuban planes that land in the Keys are museum pieces or Soviet curiosities. When a Mig fighter pilot defected the military took the plane to use as a training tool.
as to the daily essay it is osmething for me to do and will continue as lomng as i like to do it. One thing I have found helpful is not locking myself into a format or a theme though I try to mix up Lower keys and Key West essays but what I publish really depends on what I did.
My motorcycle commute essay awaits my return to health and an end to my sick leave (predicted for Thursday at this point).Tonsilitis sucks.
Dear Sir:
If the airplane were brand-spanking new, the widow would have trouble disposing of it. There is a glut of aircraft on the market these days and one like the specimen in the picture would normally find retirement in the Congo or Somalia.
If I had a house in the Keys (which I do not, and unless some drastic changes, which I am not likely to ever have), I would be delighted to let the guy with the Jeep park it in front of it. And he could put a big sign in it that said, "Fuck everybody."
It has been my experience that too many people, especially old ones, have too much time on their hands to bitch about stuff. Leslie once moved to a gated community of townhouses surrounding a millhouse, that was converted into a home. Leslie took the millhouse.
Within a year, the homeowners associaton (read "asshole breeding society") took exception to my Suburban. They presented her with a statement that said no "trucks" could be parked overnight within the community. This was a bylaw that they had conveniently passed.
We produced the registration for the truck that indicated it was a "STATION WAGON." They had a total shit fit, screaming that it clearly said, "GMC Truck" on the side. We presented their attorney with a copy of the registration.
Then we published an underground newsletter that was mailed to every resident in the community. It had four or five neat little stories on two pages, tabloid style. These listed the names of all the homeowners who were deliquent in their fees, pictures of unleashed dogs shitting on other people's lawns, and patios and gardens that had been expanded to illegally creep into common areas.
The explosion could have been heard two miles away. These people were incredible shitheads. Not one person asked me what I did for a living. They had no clue where this document could have come from and they turned on each other like rats in box.
I have lived here ten years now... And haven't had an hour's conversation with the neighbors on either side in all that time. It's fine with me.
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
Me neither. I had great relations with my neighbors in Santa Cruz but living among snowbirds just means that for 4 months of the year the street is filled with old people stumbling along not making eye contact. The other 8 there is nobody around. Bliss!
Mr Conchscooter:
whoa ! wait a minute.
quote: "filled with old people stumbling along not making eye contact."
can't be. We haven't made it there yet
bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin
ps: We have two neighbours, one beside us and one directly behind who are not considerate, perfect candidates for deporting to KW
Ah, a fine question to ask … "what would Chuck Pefley do?".
This is a question that "Chuck Pefley" often has as well.
You will note that today's Almost-One-A-Day blog post contains two photos in order to give a somewhat better synopsis of the goings on at Rub-a-Dub-Dog spa.
Probably the best and most revealing answer to that question is, however, that Chuck Pefley's focus is either image content strength and vibrancy, or something he finds to be out of the ordinary, curious, or perhaps not seen (by him) before. In a single word "discovery".
Chuck is happy to have Mr. Conchscooter mulling the finer points of life over as he wanders Florida's southernmost city streets and wondering how to approach that which presents itself to his curious eyes and mind.
PS: Since you're obviously advertising for more permanent passive-aggressive residents, I have a prime neighbor candidate for your welcome committee, too. Now, if only I could help them pack.
I feel left out. Here in my slice of Texas all of my neighbors are perfectly nice. I've even eaten dinners in some of their houses. They are all heavily armed as well. I live in a peaceful suburban armory.
There are also huge trucks everywhere and they park wherever they want (curbs, lawns, sidewalks). All of these trucks have gun racks, which is the Texas equivalent of a handicapped parking permit.
Last time I lived in Portland, a young woman who lived in a different part of my apartment complex drove her Toyota Tercel to an aerobics studio across the street. I got curious one day and paced off the distance--exactly 83 feet. She drove it back to the parking space every time.
I was foolish enough to run for and win election to my condo association's board of directors several years ago. Jack's gated community pretty much paralleled my experience, though the people in the building were mostly young, and therefore had been raised by my peers to believe they were the Most Special People in the World.
I felt like a playground monitor. I became the Seattle Times' real estate columnist's go-to guy for a good quote about how condo life sucks, at least until she got canned along with all the other writers who made the Times worth reading.
Oh, and one time I went looking at houses in some expanse of beige exurbia. Said houses had garages that were not long enough to accommodate the Nissan King Cab pickup I had at the time. The HOA rules strictly prohibited parking "commercial vehicles" in driveways. "You'll have to trade it in for something else," said the real estate lady. Right...
__Orin
Scootin' Old Skool
I want a gun rack for my Nissan. I have to admit I don't really care to show up to my sub division's gatherings, not least because I hate bordeom more than anything and my fund of small talk is tiny. And I had the only health care reform yard sign on the island as far as i recall...I should be like anonymous in Texas and just go out and glad hand the buggers. Oh well, not unless I get a new personality.
Dear Conch and Especially Anonymous In Texas:
Living in Jay, New York was the closest I ever came to heaven. Not a stupid prick in the bunch. On the opening day of deer season, I went down to diner at 4am... There were 25 trucks in the parking lot. All of them had .30/.30s or .308s in the racks, and most of the trucks were idling.
I walked into the diner with my shooting jacket on and somebody said, "What's that asshole from New Jersey dressed for?"
It was one of the funniest mements of my life.
Dear Orin:
You are so right. I have no idea how you could sit through all those stupid meetings. Leslie had work done to the outside of the house, ans some dope from the home-owners group dropped by to remind us that the front door had to be painted Sherwin Williams #124 (or some shit like that). My friend Ihor, who has even less patience than I do, wanted to come over and paint a swastika on the door.
I still laugh when I think of how that would have gone over. The story of the newsletter is absolutely true, however. God, how I hated those people.
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
Dr. Jack Reipe,
As long as you painted the swastika in Sherwin Williams #124 it might have fit into the by-laws.
We looked at a development in Punta Gorda that was like that. What were we thinking?! The realtor pointed out a non conforming trash can and we were done. A good thing as Hurricane Charlie leveled the place a few years later.
It is still there, filled with people griping. ACtually the downtown / historic section has some charm, but you could fill a thimble with it. Besides, the water looks like ice tea. Your water in the Key's is much better.
Denver isn't a scooter friendly town although my daughter smartly owns one. I would have one but for the drive to get my son to school and me to work which is 1.5 hours in my next thing to a scooter-- 89 toyota corolla.
My sweetie and I think that KW should ban cars on the island altogether. And when we've driven in a rental to get there we got rid of our rental as quickly as possible and traded it for bicycles-- it's such a pain to park there and frankly it's too fun to scooter or bicycle around the island to be stuck in a car!
I so agree! I love scootin' around the island when we are there!! Only one place I'll rent scooters from though, heard too many tales about some of those places!!
Love the "Be Aware of Dogs" sign! I picked up that artists signs while I was there last time at an art shop on Duval. I have one hanging at my desk that says "I'm on Key West Time", wish that were always true! I always buy local art to bring back as souvieners for all my buds up here. Supporting the local artists is important to me.
HAWK Missile Base!!! Awesome. I can picture MajorNelson walking around there 40 years ago.Sorry.Very cool, wish I'd seen that. I've been working for state parks for 14 years and you are right-they start planning parks by naming those things you can't do.
Sal Paradise
Post a Comment