It may just be that I am confined to a car for the time being, but I couldn't help but notice this delivery guy burning his skull under the summer sun. I should not like to think I want him to burn his head but I wonder if he knows how lucky is he to be out and about on two wheels?
Later I was photographing a little house for sale and as I reviewed the picture imagine my astonishment to see him once again crossing my field of view. Actually it's not that astonishing in a town as constricted as Key West. Stay in the same place long enough and every vehicle on the island will pass by:
What did astonish me and caused me to take the picture, was the price not listed alongside the Realtor's sign:
I cannot imagine that they would take any offer, especially as many sellers seem to be maintaining unrealistically high hopes even in this falling economy...I saw another such sign from the same Realtor in Bahama Village..
Some real estate is doing quite well thank you, and that would include the Tropic Cinema, Key West's art house theater on Eaton Street between Duval and Whitehead. They are adding a fourth screening room to the three already in place:
Next month this space should become the Peggy Dow 48 seat theater, and already the outside of the Tropic has got spaces to advertise coming attractions:
Lest anyone doubt it there are people with lots of money in Key West and come what may they like their Arts to be available to them. In this case it works for me. The Tropic has new friendly management in place of the dour Welshman who used to glower at patrons. So my wife and I returned to our former status of Producers which we dropped when we no longer felt welcome. At $600 a year we each get to the movies for free and feel like we are contributing something to our favorite not-for-profit gathering place. I can't afford to build a theater for them but I hope it helps.
Next month this space should become the Peggy Dow 48 seat theater, and already the outside of the Tropic has got spaces to advertise coming attractions:Lest anyone doubt it there are people with lots of money in Key West and come what may they like their Arts to be available to them. In this case it works for me. The Tropic has new friendly management in place of the dour Welshman who used to glower at patrons. So my wife and I returned to our former status of Producers which we dropped when we no longer felt welcome. At $600 a year we each get to the movies for free and feel like we are contributing something to our favorite not-for-profit gathering place. I can't afford to build a theater for them but I hope it helps..
I haven't highlighted any Just 4 Kids fire plugs in a while so here is a lightly decorated hydrant to make up the deficit. You will see them all over town as part of a youth art project. They are quite helpful for putting out fires too, I'm told:
On the theme of useful Art I spotted a Captain Outrageous bicycle on Southard Street. If you don't know who he was use the search function at the top of the page:
And on Duval there was a cyclist with a piece of Art on his back, and I only hope he knows how to play it properly, for his neighbor's sake:
I have no idea who this character is but I suspect he is young and hopeful and living on the edge and I wonder if perhaps in middle age he will look back at his Key West period fondly, when he has rejoined the suburban rat race and become his father (horrors!) and is araising young wanderers of his own.
On the theme of useful Art I spotted a Captain Outrageous bicycle on Southard Street. If you don't know who he was use the search function at the top of the page:And on Duval there was a cyclist with a piece of Art on his back, and I only hope he knows how to play it properly, for his neighbor's sake:I have no idea who this character is but I suspect he is young and hopeful and living on the edge and I wonder if perhaps in middle age he will look back at his Key West period fondly, when he has rejoined the suburban rat race and become his father (horrors!) and is araising young wanderers of his own. .
These kids look like they are growing up in Key West, and watching them ride by on their scooter reminded me of my two-wheeled youth. It seems so carefree in retrospect:
I was never much in favor of bumper stickers though they used to be very popular. I can hardly imagine how annoyed an elderly Che would be if he knew his image had been co opted for advertising campaigns of the most disparate sort in the Decadent West:
It must be weird to end up as a fashion icon. Which for someone like me is absolutely a fate undoubtedly worse than death. I am happy El Che didn't adopt the pork pie hat as his revolutionary motif because I think they look daft:
If I wore checkered shorts and a pork pie hat set at a jaunty angle perhaps no one would notice my pink crocs?
I was never much in favor of bumper stickers though they used to be very popular. I can hardly imagine how annoyed an elderly Che would be if he knew his image had been co opted for advertising campaigns of the most disparate sort in the Decadent West:It must be weird to end up as a fashion icon. Which for someone like me is absolutely a fate undoubtedly worse than death. I am happy El Che didn't adopt the pork pie hat as his revolutionary motif because I think they look daft:If I wore checkered shorts and a pork pie hat set at a jaunty angle perhaps no one would notice my pink crocs? .
In his list of endless complaints about this blog Jack riepe, known to the legions of those indifferent to his multitudinous opinions as Toad, decries the lack of "skin" so here is one for those old men with nothing more interesting to think about:
In his list of endless complaints about this blog Jack riepe, known to the legions of those indifferent to his multitudinous opinions as Toad, decries the lack of "skin" so here is one for those old men with nothing more interesting to think about:
I quite liked this group of bored husbands waiting for their wives to complete their window shopping at Fast Buck Freddie's:
Or this one. Hands up anyone who remembers the agony of waiting for Dad to make up his mind which profoundly boring tourist attraction to see next?
I thought this next guy was wheeling a stretcher until I realised he was moving construction materials across Duval:
I have to confess I haven't been downtown in a while else I would have known the scene of the fire had been torn down, next to the San Carlos Theater:
It would be nice if the space were turned into a pocket park, say with gumbo limbos and benches and a public restroom. But the demands of capitalism being what they are no doubt we will get yet another t-shirt shop complete with fart jokes for us to enjoy. Oh well..
Dogs don't make such mistakes. They wait patiently because they know good things are bound to come. This one was waiting outside Keys Federal on Southard and as I released the shutter the owner stepped out and transformed the yearning dog into a self satisfied one:
This one was waiting for an endless conversation to end outside Voltaire Books on Simonton Street. She reminded me of my late Emma, though not nearly as handsome of course:
Talking about missing stuff puts me in mind of the Bonneville. And it's hard not to miss your motorcycle in a town filled with them in all shapes and sizes.
Not that I lust after a cruiser or a tricycle though I am forced to admit there are certain advantages to three wheels over two. Especially when it comes to falling off...This one is much more to my taste, a Honda 919, which would be the cubic capacity, with well in excess of one hundred horsepower and a sensible riding position. So of course they no longer import it, or the 600cc model formerly known as the Hornet, both designed and built in Italy.
No, I want my Bonneville back thanks. Certainly I don't think this one below would suit me at all. And in case the kitchen sink doesn't fit in the trailer you can strap it securely to the luggage rack on top provided for all those extra bits and bobs you can't possibly leave at home when traveling light on a motorcycle:
While I'm feeling grumpy I want to point out a "For Sale" sign on this yellow Taiwan Golden Bee scooter. Luckily it says yellow and TGB on the for sale sign. Otherwise who could tell?
You can just imagine how the conversation would go if this bright spark ever has to call 9-1-1. Though he can't be that stupid- he apparently hasn't fallen off his two wheeler. And just to cheer myself up, one more attempt at photographing Duval Street, the scenic shot that never comes out like I want it to:
Love you. Mean it.
Bye.
This one was waiting for an endless conversation to end outside Voltaire Books on Simonton Street. She reminded me of my late Emma, though not nearly as handsome of course:Talking about missing stuff puts me in mind of the Bonneville. And it's hard not to miss your motorcycle in a town filled with them in all shapes and sizes.Not that I lust after a cruiser or a tricycle though I am forced to admit there are certain advantages to three wheels over two. Especially when it comes to falling off...This one is much more to my taste, a Honda 919, which would be the cubic capacity, with well in excess of one hundred horsepower and a sensible riding position. So of course they no longer import it, or the 600cc model formerly known as the Hornet, both designed and built in Italy.No, I want my Bonneville back thanks. Certainly I don't think this one below would suit me at all. And in case the kitchen sink doesn't fit in the trailer you can strap it securely to the luggage rack on top provided for all those extra bits and bobs you can't possibly leave at home when traveling light on a motorcycle:While I'm feeling grumpy I want to point out a "For Sale" sign on this yellow Taiwan Golden Bee scooter. Luckily it says yellow and TGB on the for sale sign. Otherwise who could tell?You can just imagine how the conversation would go if this bright spark ever has to call 9-1-1. Though he can't be that stupid- he apparently hasn't fallen off his two wheeler. And just to cheer myself up, one more attempt at photographing Duval Street, the scenic shot that never comes out like I want it to:Love you. Mean it.Bye.
I must have cycled past it on my way to work on the waterfront in my previous life but why would I have noticed it? The entrance is marked by the two most common styles of homes seen nowdays in Old Town Key West. The old:
And the old refurbished in grand style:
The lane is half a block long, though unlike others it has somehow resisted the blandishments of tarmacadam:
Personally I'd rather throw my money at central air conditioning than at televised advertising, but there we are. While I am in a bitchy mood (and I can't think why, if it isn't a lack of motorbikes in my life) I should point out that I am a great fan of asphalt. I have lived on dirt and gravelled roads and they suck. They create mud when it's wet, dust when it's dry and they are impossible to ride with any sense of security, though these days even asphalt roads seem to be giving me trouble.
I don't feel particularly indebted to the Scots for golf, haggis or Scotch eggs, but asphalt must rate high on the list of human achievements. I know it is fashionable to denigrate roads and cars but had their critics lived and traveled in communities where it is absent they might possibly change their minds. On the other hand Caraballo Lane's slightly dishevelled air is very picturesque:
And this is the place where those preposterous safety measures called insecurity lights have been allowed to disintegrate:
In a delightful backwater like this a stern finger wagging should be sufficient:
Caraballo Lane is picturesque:
The lane also provides two major food groups for hard economic times, papayas and coconuts and judging by the bountiful fruit on my own trees we may be having a bumper coconut crop this year. I need to plant papayas judging by this bounty:
Looking back at Eaton Street:
And across the street is the landmark Island City Hotel, circa 1889, with its splendid carriage entrance and gingerbread decorations:
I should point out that it would be a very good idea not to mix this place up with the Island House for Men on nearby Fleming Street. One encourages a certain level of intimacy, the other doesn't. Up to you to find out which is which. Neither of which has much to do with lovely Caraballo Lane.
Driving towards Key West on Highway One, there is a place just past the Sugarloaf Lodge where someone parked a plane:
This unmarked street on Google maps is labeled "Perky" after the mythical town that was supposed to have been built around the developer's bat tower that can be found at the northern end of this road. 
The fact that "Perky" never came into being hasn't deterred mapmakers, locals call this place generally "Lower Sugarloaf" and this is where the airstrip lives, shown by that billboard advertising airplane rides.
They say the landing strip is 2700 feet long, about half a mile to you and me, and just over three quarters of a kilometer in Canadian miles. It looks long enough to me, though I know nothing about flying at all. As airports go, Sugarloaf's is a very home brewed affair:
This is where the flying lessons are apparently given:
With planes parked alongside possibly ready to go:
Continuing the home grown theme there is a simple mechanic's shop in a trailer:
There is an ultra light also, similar in many respects to the one currently floating at the dock at Sugarloaf Marina next to the lodge. Doubtless for rent is you have a yen to fly ultra-lightly: 
It wouldn't the Florida Keys is precious land area weren't given up to the hopeless wrecks which sit gently decomposing at am epochal rate in the sun:
Beauty and usefulness are strictly in the eye of the owner. Not to mention the cost of removal and disposal. You might think this would be an excellent spot to try some speed trials or just to bugger about on with a motorcycle, however to guard against a collision with an aircraft such foolishness is forbidden:
Though one can stand for a while and contemplate the surroundings which inevitably include water around here:
And so, after standing in the sun for a while one has nothing left to do but turn around and head out. At which point one comes across the little green shed one saw peripherally on the way in. More rides!
I am told by people that have done it that throwing oneself out of a perfectly good plane here yields tremendous views. The day I decide to do something so foolish I promise I shall post pictures. Looking back at the airport one can glimpse the houses I call the "Ho Ho Ho Homes". They light up the seasonal sentiments at Christmas time, clearly visible across the water for northbound traffic on Highway One.
I hope I shall be back on the Bonneville soon because seeing these pictures and remembering riding does me no good at all.
