I have always made it a habit to walk Cheyenne at least a little when I get home from work. The ride home generally gives me a boost after twelve hours of taking 9-1-1 calls and talking to police officers on the radio and I expend the energy on my dog. These days it's getting progressively hotter after the sun comes up so I am spending more time walking her while it is still cool and pleasant outside.
It's frustrating but the oil burning kennel runs just fine, everything works except the odd puff of white smoke indicates problems under the hood. While we figure out how to replace the Maxima I continue to use it as a kennel and Cheyenne is duly appreciative.
Cheyenne is a born explorer and I cannot imagine how frustrating her former life must have been. I am pretty sure she was not encouraged to dive into mangroves at will, as I rarely see any other dog owners behaving in this laissez faire manner, allowing their pets free rein.
North Ramrod Key is five minutes from my house where there is a failed development ideal for lonely dawn walks. Mako becomes Johnson Street which leads to Ramrod Park, known as the Ramrod Pool. 
These mangroves, shown below, go under water in rainy season, but God forbid anyone restrain themselves from disfiguring the landscape with silly signs. Might as well warn off any potential trespassers, even ones equipped with waders.
I guess everything is owned by someone but it's not like there's anything to steal here except a glance at the rising sun.
I don't take the time to change in the morning when I get home, Cheyenne's impatience to go walking is palpable, but I still feel rather silly walking the woods dressed like this. 
Not half as silly as the half wit who dropped off this wrapper. Considering the nearest Checkers Hamburger joint is in Key West 27 miles away it took some effort to haul this disfigurement this far to dump it under a private property sign.
If you look at Google map this path is marked as a street, as though development were imminent. It's not.
It is instead a rural spot filled with things to smell.
There are a couple of houses out here and I have met at least one occupant. That's me walking my dog in my work clothes. Long pants, Kevlar lined to ride the motorcycle, designed like dress pants so I can wear them at work. They call them sliders because that's what they are supposed to do when you fall off the motorbike. They slide, you don't get torn up. 
I've met Jack and his rescue greyhounds walking these same paths but I haven't seen him the past few days. He really likes living out here in splendid isolation. 
Sunrise: plotted and expected but always magical. 
Commercial fishermen. I used to crave living at anchor like this and then I did it for a while. I think I am growing old because when I see people "on the hook" all I remember are the inconveniences. 
Road ends, more or less. 
The track out to the Ramrod Pool was getting so bad the county actually trucked in some gravel and made the roadway quite usable. Amazing how they find the money in these difficult times.
It's a rather bare bones "park" and don't expect anyone to berate you if you bring alcohol to this spot. I usually bring a swimsuit but I am the exception in that I don't care to drink when I swim. 
I also tend to clean up after my dog. Amazingly enough there is a trash can out here, emptied regularly by a county employee. The place is actually quite clean, on the whole.
People come out here and it is a well known dog swimming place so Cheyenne has lots to smell. She hates the water and I don't encourage her to learn to swim as she is much easier to keep clean when she isn't wet with salt water... 
There is a community of people that hang out here and drink and set the world to rights with very loud music. I like the pool at this hour when it's just me and my busy dog. 
The views west towards Summerland Key and the tall Niles Channel Bridge are magnificent. 
The pause that refreshes. What are you doing at 7am on a weekday? Harried and hassled are you getting ready to go to work? I really enjoy working nights and no one believes me. 
It's the start of a new day's work on the sea for the Old Man and his fishing boat. He picked up a crew member who parked his truck on the other side of the pool. 
And after waving cheerfully to me as they putted by, they left to see what the day would bring.
The county has also spent money to block off trails to motor traffic all around the Lower Keys with these bright yellow barriers. The gap is for pedestrians and bicycles. Cheyenne is walking on the by pass created by assholes in trucks who need to drive absolutely everywhere... 
...and save ten bucks by not using the dump at Cudjoe Key. 
I am going to miss my V-6 Maxima, but my wife says, very sensibly, if oil production is going to peak in two years or less we need to go economical with a four cylinder sedan to replace it. It is our comfortable long distance car and we need a sound replacement. I hate buying cars.
Cheyenne won't know the difference, she'll still have a bed to nap in after her exertions. 
Sleep, tired Nature's sweet restorer. The face of a chauffeur who is thinking of his bed. 
It is altogether too bright at 7:40 in the morning and all sensible people should be composing themselves for sleep.
It's frustrating but the oil burning kennel runs just fine, everything works except the odd puff of white smoke indicates problems under the hood. While we figure out how to replace the Maxima I continue to use it as a kennel and Cheyenne is duly appreciative.
Cheyenne is a born explorer and I cannot imagine how frustrating her former life must have been. I am pretty sure she was not encouraged to dive into mangroves at will, as I rarely see any other dog owners behaving in this laissez faire manner, allowing their pets free rein.North Ramrod Key is five minutes from my house where there is a failed development ideal for lonely dawn walks. Mako becomes Johnson Street which leads to Ramrod Park, known as the Ramrod Pool. These mangroves, shown below, go under water in rainy season, but God forbid anyone restrain themselves from disfiguring the landscape with silly signs. Might as well warn off any potential trespassers, even ones equipped with waders.
I guess everything is owned by someone but it's not like there's anything to steal here except a glance at the rising sun.I don't take the time to change in the morning when I get home, Cheyenne's impatience to go walking is palpable, but I still feel rather silly walking the woods dressed like this. 
Not half as silly as the half wit who dropped off this wrapper. Considering the nearest Checkers Hamburger joint is in Key West 27 miles away it took some effort to haul this disfigurement this far to dump it under a private property sign.If you look at Google map this path is marked as a street, as though development were imminent. It's not.It is instead a rural spot filled with things to smell.There are a couple of houses out here and I have met at least one occupant. That's me walking my dog in my work clothes. Long pants, Kevlar lined to ride the motorcycle, designed like dress pants so I can wear them at work. They call them sliders because that's what they are supposed to do when you fall off the motorbike. They slide, you don't get torn up. I've met Jack and his rescue greyhounds walking these same paths but I haven't seen him the past few days. He really likes living out here in splendid isolation. Sunrise: plotted and expected but always magical. 
Commercial fishermen. I used to crave living at anchor like this and then I did it for a while. I think I am growing old because when I see people "on the hook" all I remember are the inconveniences. 
Road ends, more or less. The track out to the Ramrod Pool was getting so bad the county actually trucked in some gravel and made the roadway quite usable. Amazing how they find the money in these difficult times.It's a rather bare bones "park" and don't expect anyone to berate you if you bring alcohol to this spot. I usually bring a swimsuit but I am the exception in that I don't care to drink when I swim. 
I also tend to clean up after my dog. Amazingly enough there is a trash can out here, emptied regularly by a county employee. The place is actually quite clean, on the whole.
People come out here and it is a well known dog swimming place so Cheyenne has lots to smell. She hates the water and I don't encourage her to learn to swim as she is much easier to keep clean when she isn't wet with salt water... 
There is a community of people that hang out here and drink and set the world to rights with very loud music. I like the pool at this hour when it's just me and my busy dog. 
The views west towards Summerland Key and the tall Niles Channel Bridge are magnificent. 
The pause that refreshes. What are you doing at 7am on a weekday? Harried and hassled are you getting ready to go to work? I really enjoy working nights and no one believes me. 
It's the start of a new day's work on the sea for the Old Man and his fishing boat. He picked up a crew member who parked his truck on the other side of the pool. 
And after waving cheerfully to me as they putted by, they left to see what the day would bring.The county has also spent money to block off trails to motor traffic all around the Lower Keys with these bright yellow barriers. The gap is for pedestrians and bicycles. Cheyenne is walking on the by pass created by assholes in trucks who need to drive absolutely everywhere... 
...and save ten bucks by not using the dump at Cudjoe Key. 
I am going to miss my V-6 Maxima, but my wife says, very sensibly, if oil production is going to peak in two years or less we need to go economical with a four cylinder sedan to replace it. It is our comfortable long distance car and we need a sound replacement. I hate buying cars.
Cheyenne won't know the difference, she'll still have a bed to nap in after her exertions. 
Sleep, tired Nature's sweet restorer. The face of a chauffeur who is thinking of his bed. 
It is altogether too bright at 7:40 in the morning and all sensible people should be composing themselves for sleep.
8 comments:
I'm waiting for plug-in hybrids to prove themselves before I plunk down money for a new ride. Once they are deemed reliable I hope to snap up a decently priced used model, but we'll see! Until then I'll continue to average 22 MPG and try not to think too hard about the ecological damage wrought by my choice of transportation.
Great "back country" pics (not sure you can classify a stalled subdivision as back country). Some day I would love to explore these environs as thoroughly as you already have!
I can barely take my Pugs outside in the summer. I have to wait until dark, and in the meantime there is that nifty thing Floridians call a lanai, which I have to wash five or six times a day!
Dear Conchscooter:
I too must eventually contemplate replacing my truck. But I am under no illusions, I will replace it with another Suburban, 3-4 years old, with 90,000 miles on it. It will be my transportation, hearse, and casket, all in one.
I was just about to type in that I read the most fascinating and pleasant blog yesterday, crafted by an incredibly skillful writer. The blog was "Fresh Squeezed Florida," and concerned the tedium of walking around in snake and alligator-infested Florida. According to the author, it is a highly overrrated experience.
Now I believe I have just read the enlightened author of that piece allows a herd of pugs to soil her lanai. I have to think about this for a bit.
Michael, how is it your self-portraits never depict the presence of a pooper-scooper and the inevitable plastic bag? Are you so green that you simply use your hand and a pocket?
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
Mr Conchscooter:
here in British Columbia we have stringent AIR CARE for vehicle pollution testing. Your car has to pass air care or you can't get it insured and there are expiry dates. an oil burning kennel would not be able to get insurance, and no one would purchase the car if it did not have an aircare pass certificate. It's one of those things you have to do to get your car ready for sale.
I thought you fancied the SOUL ? and what has happened to the Sebring ?
bob
Wet Coast Scootin
Ok, I'm not your dog aficionado, so what kind of dog do you have there? Lab?
Dear Bobscoot:
They are thinking of introducing Air Care — US1 here in the United States. This would subject every politician to random air samplings to measure things like carbon monoxide and methane releases during speeches, campaigns, or sound bites on TV. If the methane measurement exceeds 20 percent of the speech's useful content, the politician will be retired to companies selling body scanners to the DHS. The base pay is $753,000, per useless and dated machine sold.
The program is currently stalled as the phrase "useful content" has Congress running scared.
My truck is subject to a separate emmissions inspection for older vehicles. I pour two quarts of baby oil into the crankcase to make the emmissions smell nice. Still, I had one computer printout that read, "change the truck's diaper."
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
I have a yellow Lab and she is of the English variety with a square head and short legs and curly hair (a "duck tail") at the top of her tail. This is a highly valued breed and would cost you 600-800 dollars from a puppy breeder. At the pound she was $50 and 30 minutes of paperwork. I carry plastic bags (the ones my paper comes in) and I pick up after her. However unlike every other dog I have owned she has a habit of running deep into the bushes and crapping well out of sight which is a great and wonderful thing. She rarely craps where I have to pick up and I am most grateful to whoever trained her as labs dump pounds of fertilizer at one time, with great gusto I might add. Next time I do bag it I will photograph it to keep riepe content ( as though such a thing were possible).
Florida used to have a vehicle inspection program and it was scrapped as being excessively Canadian and socialist. I expect my Nissan will disapper in a few weeks to be replaced by a 32 mpg four cylinder ( boo hiss) as the shop quoted $5734 for anew engine today. My wife is wavering on what to do. The current smoke output is invisble if i don't floor the accelearator and not enough oil has been burned to show a drop on the dipstick. The sebring convertible is my wife's car for her commute. she keeps the Vespa at work to ride around town.
Andy: 22mpg is great if you don't drive much. I get 29mpg with the Nissan on 10% ethanol but I drive/ride a lot.
Dear Sir:
What do you mean by the following statement?
"She rarely craps where I have to pick up and I am most grateful to whoever trained her as labs dump pounds of fertilizer at one time, with great gusto I might add."
Unless this anilmal is shitting Hagen Daz ice cream, you are required by law, and by the tenets of sustainability, to trail her into the swamp and mangrove tangles to retreive these piles of invasive species pollution.
With the last few dollars I have, I've hired a team of experts who come every Friday (okay, Leslie hired them) to stroll through the yard collecting the fossil fuel of the future. When 50 pounds are harvested (a day's output for Atticus), we send it to Washington, D.C., where it is reprocessed as traveller security legislation. (Leslie said, "If I waited for you to rake up the shit in the yard, it would cover the house before you took notice.)
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
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