Carsten Lane is become a bitter disappointment to me. First it used to have a messed up name and it was impossible to tell if it was supposed to be Carsten, or in the plural Carstens because the signs at William and Margaret Streets couldn't agree. Nowadays they seem to agree on the singular. Very boring:
We still have it listed in our computer aided dispatch as Carstens, long may it stay in confusion. Worse than that is the fact they have cleaned up the back of the old Harris School and now the lane is wide open to the northwest and any air of dark and forest-like mystery has been lost to efficiency:
I mentioned the Harris School in a previous essay (30 November 2008) and it seems no one wants to buy the building, nor the huge chunk of land it sits on so here it is, all cleared and ready for unbridled development. Meanwhile Carsten(s) Lane is no longer a shady jungle of growth, overpowered by the building that used to be occupied by the MARC House.Now its just a one sided alley, but at least it's only the middle piece. The opening off William Street still retains some of that closed in look I am so fond of:
And the overgrown bit still curves wildly as it always has:
Of course there is still a chance that you can rent a house, rent a bicycle and enjoy looking out without missing a thing:
Then there are the attempts at beautification which looks really nice, all symmetrical and tidy and stuff and in the middle of it there is one of those bizarre signs. I wonder why anyone imagines that some dolt who lets their dog crap all over a flowerbed is going to be put off by a vivid little sign:
Besides the sign spoils the effect, but there we are. These signs are all over the place because too many people who walk their dogs, and there are tons of them in Key West, don't pick up after them. I swore after my last dog died I wasn't picking up after anybody's dog ever again, I had bagged tons of the stuff over the years. Twelve years of that is enough and I don't envy people like this lady shown below walking a large, doubtless productive, animal, though I'm sure she was amply armed with plastic bags:
There are better maintained homes on Carstens Lane too,
And there are the castles in the air, with all their different living levels,
And there are projects jealously guarded:
Margaret Street leads away past the ravaged Harris school block which is wide open on that side too:
But taken at a slightly different angle things really don't look so bad, especially if there is a Bonneville in the foreground:
It was a gray afternoon, overcast and promising rain, which never materialized, so I looked up from where I was standing contemplating change and how annoying it is:
Very apocalyptic I'm sure but it's just a photographic illusion.
There used to a Harley Davidson dealer on Truman Avenue called Hornes, but the old man got tired and decided it was time to retire. MamaJoe's, an old fashioned H-D repair shop in Marathon closed last year as well. Aside from the myriad scooter shops around Key West there are two motorcycle dealers, the Honda shop on Southard Street run by a Conch known for his extremely eccentric business style, and the more professional Yamaha shop on North Roosevelt which is strictly a Yamaha only shop. Boots Scoots, an independent repair shop gave it a try on Fourth Street but the owner got ill apparently and had to close. Bones cycles is now a scooter rental shop on North Roosevelt. Jiri at Stock Island Cycles on Laurel Avenue keeps on keeping on:
He's a busy man, now that he runs the shop by himself after his former partner dropped by the wayside and Jiri the entrepreneur takes care of everything. He hired his own assistant, a shadowy figure working on a scooter on one of the lifts:
Jiri chats with customers, takes appointments...and wrenches on bikes as well:
Like any self respecting old fashioned motorcycle shop Jiri's place is partly a social gathering spot, partly a repair place and partly also a showroom to look at different motorcycles on this variety starved island, even if they aren't for sale:
Jiri (pronounced: hee-ree) grew up in communist run Czechoslovakia before emigrating to the US in 1996 and ending up on Stock island doing what he knows best: fixing motorcycles. His hobby is racing and he has his own bike that he trailers up to Homestead for track days. He also gets to test ride customer bikes of course and he has a variety:
Jiri remembers going to watch motorcycle races at the Grand Prix circuit at Brno, before the Berlin wall came down, and he, along with his buddies, would check out the huge touring motorcycles ridden east from West Germany, and they would gawp, all envious as only small boys can be, and never imagined that he could ever ride, never mind own a machine like those sophisticated BMW's. "Now I fix them!" he grinned, surrounded by Western motorcycling decadence and enjoying every minute of it.
Jiri likes Japanese motorcycles for their reliability, but he works on anything he can order parts for and he has dealers in South Florida happy to ship him parts, including Pure Triumph in Fort Lauderdale. 
Pick up service is possible though I coordinate with my wife when I drop off the Trumpet, as she works half a mile away and she lets me borrow her Vespa if the bonneville is getting a tune up... Wandering the rows of tired and needy old motorbikes is always an experience at Island Cycles. I saw another of those typically Cuban rolling memorials: 
And typically southernmost-proud bumper stickers:
Locating Island Cycles (305 292 5444) is a bit of a trick, but the best way is to take the Highway out of Key West and at the flashing yellow lights turn south, past the Coral Hammock development, then take the first left towards Murray Marine. Jiri is next to the defunct propeller shop on Laurel Avenue . In the distance one can see Highway One running alongside the trees that line the Key West Golf Course:
Having Jiri's shop makes Key West feel somehow less remote when it comes to riding a motorcycle every day. Technical back up is no bad thing at all for a daily rider.
Here's something completely different, a lane that isn't in the historic old town part of Key West. Seidenberg Lane is a kind of alleyway that runs parallel to Seidenberg Avenue, which in turn parallels the main cross town street called Flagler, and while all these streets are paralleling themselves across New Town, little Seidenberg Lane goes almost unnoticed, not surprising when it starts off this busy street, imaginatively called First:
From the hustle and bustle of homeward bound commuters to the little lane was a complete transformation, old world Key West in full force:
Imagine that,kids just hanging out in the street (the lane actually) playing like we used to when I was small decades ago. There were adults keeping an eye on them from open doors (this is winter and thus considered not steaming hot) and I rolled very slowly through their midst. But such is the all pervasive influence of the pernicious television that I am sure I'd be taken for a pervert were I to stop and talk so I took a couple of surreptitious pictures and left them to it. I mean do they do this in your neighborhood streets, even in summer? 
Well, maybe they do this sort of outdoor playing Up North but all I hear is the lamentation that streets aren't safe for children anymore which seems a shame to me. Being outside was the best part of my unhappy youth. Be that as it may Seidenberg Lane gets very interesting (to a nerd like me) after it crosses Second Street:
It becomes a grassy alley, and considering the shortage of lawns in the Keys I'm surprised some enterprising Conch hasn't set up a goat to graze on a chain down here. As it was the grass was mown and I had the alley to myself, me and tall fences of various sorts:
Looking back the lane was bathed in a sort of light that brings to mind the long summer evenings of northern latitudes, especially with those kids playing in the alley. I couldn't believe it when one of them started twirling a hula hoop, like she thought it was 1950!
Not all of the lane was fenced in and I got to peak a little bit and even though this isn't the fashionable old town neighborhood beloved of the trolley tours I enjoy the views:
And then we have the eternal side yard projects:
Eventually the lane dead ends unceremoniously into Fourth Street, no signs, not even any clear markings of any kind. If you didn't know it was there you wouldn't find out by looking:
And after I had walked in a small circle to see if indeed the lane continued through someone's yard to a more natural conclusion on Fifth Street, which is a main artery, I turned around and strolled back. The kids were still playing in the light of the setting sun:
And all was right with the world. As long as you don't read the financial pages...
To say Park Key is a wide spot in the Overseas Highway would be exaggerating. Park Key consists of two signs, one at Park Channel and the other at North Harris Channel which pretty much defines this tiny uninhabited Key. And there's another exaggeration, it's not totally uninhabited:
At the spot along the highway where I stopped to take a quick stroll I found numerous spiders building cobwebs. I have no idea, as usual, what they are called but they are little square buggers, very industrious, who look like they are built of armoured plating. Their webs shone in the sunlight which made them easy to duck and avoid, but they and a few birds are the only residents of the half mile long Park Key. The island is basically a causeway connecting the two arms of Sugarloaf Key but it does have one small sort-of-turn out, which county public works has done it's best to make totally unfriendly:
The thing is, every time I ride by here in the dark my peripheral vision flashes a reflection or two back at me and I get this anxious feeling like something white with the word "Sheriff" could be parked here; an anxiety inducing feeling as the speed limit on this section of highway is a soporific 45 miles per hour...so I figured perhaps I would stop thinking about it if I took a short walk and explored the mysterious little area:
Of which there isn't too much to explore, just a gravel path through the shrubbery to the water's edge...
...which on a bright sunny winter afternoon at 80 degrees (27C) looked quite lovely:
They are quite obsessed about not parking here for some reason, and it verges on mania in my opinion because about the only thing that could get out here to get parked would be a skinny bicycle and I can't think why they would be worrying about that. Perhaps they have surplus quantities of "No Parking" signs to distribute around the county. Or perhaps they are worried about some half wit actually trying to use the old and very distressed boat ramp here:
So I stood there feeling all illegal and everything, neither using the boat ramp nor dumping trash but simply admiring the views off towards the west and Sugarloaf Lodge:
Or the not entirely dissimilar view to the east which is where Sugarloaf Middle school sits invisible somewhere among these mangroves:
And off to the north, barely visible sat a houseboat. I've seen it there for months and on a day like this the lifestyle looked enviable:
The boat was so far away my telephoto lense was hard pressed to pick up the boat, and it's Jolly Roger snapping in the breeze:
Back on land busy people were busy torturing themselves alongside the traffic:
And I had a motorcycle to ride:
Yes I know the road is all straight but it is still a great ride and now when I flash by after work in the dark early morning hours, I will have a better idea of what that white reflection is in my peripheral vision. Unless it's a Deputy Sheriff, lurking.