The gym I go to is close by Don's Place, the bar, so when I am sweaty and tired and Rusty is with me we go for a walk which often leads us this way down Truman Avenue. I posted this picture on my Instagram account (michaelconchscooter) as "Wasting Away In Margaritaville." A bit obvious but true nonetheless.
What I like about Key West is what sometimes drives you crazy about this town: the variety of characters and scenes that one just takes for granted. Homeless run shoulders with millionaires who wear street clothes without labels. Cycling is efficient, but car ownership isn't and thus loses its role as status symbol.
I read on Facebook about the travails of packing and leaving for anew home in California posted by someone I knew in town. I can't say we shared lifestyles as he made a lot of money and l;iked to live high on the hog. I don't mind going high on the hog but I am happy to go low too, especially when I travel. I see no point in journeying to a country 5,000 miles away to eat the same high end "American grille" or sushi instead of trying local dishes.
So when I read of their new California home in a gated community with home owners passwords and bylaws and all that stuff I wasn't surprised. I guess after a long time in the chaos of Old Town orderly gated serenity has its appeal. And yet here we were approaching another typical street scene, bicycle repair man took time out to pet Rusty and show me the nuances of his low rider, two people standing in the street blocking the road, as you do, chatting.
The bell at the firehouse museum on Grinnell:
No idea what this is but someone worked hard to create it:
Rusty rarely grazes on street food but he cleaned up this lot. He is a surprisingly picky eater for a former stray. Maybe he likes the civilized food he gets at home these days:
Oyster shells as road fill. Weirdly medieval:
I love the evening light on these classic Key West porches: