Smartfortwo are not exceptional alternative energy vehicles anymore, they are now showing up lightly used. This 2008 with 3,000 miles was for sale with all accessories and a convertible top for (drum roll) $14,500. A great deal considering that off the showroom floor this would set you back batter than $20,000. And it's in the colors that my wife loves.
Too bad we feel very leery of getting into any debt these days. Or try a penny farthing for alternative wheels:
For true alternative energy you want to go see the Key West High School lab run by my buddy Mr Josh Clearman.
I call it flower bed, you call it a...heat diffuser? Typical scientist joke.
The program is a mixture of classroom, lab and practical application. This program is much admired and has received some very positive press.
With reason. The High School is generating wind power.
They also make fuel to run the school buses.
Who da man? He da man!
The high school makes electricity from wind thanks to Mr Clearman. 
Mrs Josh Clearman helping direct visitors to the open house. Hi Lisa! 
A Mercedes Benz running on grease. Amazing stuff. 
Aside from one small extra filter you can't tell the difference. 
Bio-diesel is an enthusiast's market but people are learning this sort of thing may be the way of the future, in one measure or another. 
And people want to learn. 
Josh is leading the way in bringing alternative energy knowledge to the youngsters of the Florida Keys. Very cool.
Too bad we feel very leery of getting into any debt these days. Or try a penny farthing for alternative wheels:For true alternative energy you want to go see the Key West High School lab run by my buddy Mr Josh Clearman.I call it flower bed, you call it a...heat diffuser? Typical scientist joke.
The program is a mixture of classroom, lab and practical application. This program is much admired and has received some very positive press.
With reason. The High School is generating wind power.
They also make fuel to run the school buses.
Who da man? He da man!
The high school makes electricity from wind thanks to Mr Clearman. 
Mrs Josh Clearman helping direct visitors to the open house. Hi Lisa! 
A Mercedes Benz running on grease. Amazing stuff. 
Aside from one small extra filter you can't tell the difference. 
Bio-diesel is an enthusiast's market but people are learning this sort of thing may be the way of the future, in one measure or another. 
And people want to learn. 
Cheyenne and I have walked the trail, old State Road 939A several times but this time I wanted to get to the end, which I had measured as four miles away. An hour and a half I figured in delightful mixtures of sun and shade.
The fish float is a popular decorative motif in the Keys' wilderness. 
It was time for a pause that refreshes. I put my baseball cap into a plastic bag and filled it with water.
I used to own a collapsible nylon water dish for dogs but we live in a brave new economic world and a plastic bag has lots of re-usable uses. And it's cheap. Ha! here come the owners of the other car at the trail head. Sensible people using bicycles instead of ambling. 
However when you walk you get the time to look around and enjoy the view. Looking north: 
Or you can stop and try to take a picture of mangrove snappers swirling in the not completely clear waters.
Yes, I know, I missed the fish altogether. Cheyenne was still frisky at this stage and hunting for smells in the bushes.
Lovely isn't it?
I have to confess to a small oddity in my life. I grew up reading Italian comic books and much to my surprise when I started going back for visits I discovered a book stall in Terni where they sell old copies of my favorite stories. They are lightweight and easy to read and usually I read them late at night at work when I'm tired and pictures are a relief for tired middle aged eyes. I happened to have one in my pack and because I had forgotten the paper I amused myself with Tex Willer for twenty minutes while Cheyenne napped.
The Hand of Destiny was a rip snorting adventure set in New Mexico and in case you were worried Tex and Kit Carson put the evil doers to rights by the end of the episode. 
Some kind person put out three heavy duty benches where I figured the trail was soon about to end.
Nope, no end in sight and I decided not to spend time wandering the enticing salt flats. I checked my cell phone and to my horror discovered we had been walking for two hours and no way was I going to be home before my wife. I knew we were close to the end, open water was opening up on either side of the trail and I could smell salt air blowing. Finally, two and a half anxious hours after we left the kennel at the trail head we reached the end of the trail. 
It was not a very exciting end, I had hoped for a small beach with perhaps a sturdy home made bench set under a mangrove to admire the view...
I could see Big Coppitt across the waters of Saddlebunch Harbor but that was it, nowhere to sit, no guest book to sign. We turned around. 
Oh God! I thought as I stretched out alongside her, I've killed my dog. From here the walk turned into an endurance trek, not so much for me as for my 8 year old dog. It was hot and sticky and she was panting. I picked her up and carried her 73 pounds as long as I could through the sunny patches of the trail. I found a plywood sheet and attached a piece of found fishing line and tried to persuade her to sit on it as I pulled. She was having none of it. Measure my concern by the lack of pictures. We staggered on until the damned phone rang. It went better than I had hoped though I suspect she was laughing at me, not with me. She agreed to drive to my car and meet on the trail. The sun was heading down to the horizon, shadows were lengthening and I was starting to feel lonely and not a little stupid. Finally...
It was the best feeling in the world to ask that time worn cliché of a question: "How was your day?" after Cheyenne had finished greeting her savior with a wagging tail and jumps of relief. So we walked on with renewed energy ( and no more dog carrying thank God, my arms were falling out at the sockets) and my wife prattled on about her day at school and a tobacco whistle blower called Victor somebody who had told the girls about the true dangers of smoking...and my mind wandered off glad that this monstrous expedition had been reduced magically to it's proper proportion of just a family walk in the woods before dinner.
Who knew you could end up walking eight miles through the mangroves and never be out of the wilderness? I do, now.
The Police Department has been undergoing some paint and spiffying up which is nice for night shift as the painters are gone, leaving only the noxious fumes of modern paint gassing the building.
The front door to the Police Station is locked much to the consternation of people who watch TV and think the city of key West has money to spare to keep a sergeant employed as a front desk clerk. I always tell people who need an officer for a non emergency to call us and we'll send one to your home or hotel where you can wait comfortably. Unless it's a crazy night we respond within 15 minutes for lower priority calls. Losing your ID seems like the end of the world, but compared to people having heart attacks or getting fighting drunk it is considered Lower priority if your life isn't in danger.
Inside the corridors are wide and bland. We don't have cells in the police station. Sometimes prisoners are brought here to be questioned and the corridors are wide enough to walk three abreast but most police work boils down to paperwork and report writing after the action is over. You don't see much of that on TV, tediously filling out times, addresses and phone numbers.
The smell of fresh paint will linger for a couple of days but the fresh paint itself will look good for several years to come. This is my office with a huge plate window on the corridor so passing dignitaries can look in at the brains of the department, in a manner of speaking. Another reason to work nights: far fewer dignitaries in the building.
I like to arrive about ten minutes before six and I like to be relieved around the same time in the morning though technically there is no obligation to be relieved before six o'clock straight up. We each have a locker in the kitchen: 
In mine I keep some snacks, some magazines and books in case I forget to bring any (most of my colleagues read fashion magazines and gossip rags rather than motorcycle or sailing magazines for light entertainment). I hung up a map of the Dry Tortugas which drifted to my locker in some inexplicable way. It reminds me of happy times camping. In the yellow bag I keep my dress shoes. Our dress code requires a uniform of a polo shirt embroidered with a police badge, dress pants and dress shoes. Only women can wear skirts though none do oddly enough.
My Kevlar lined slider pants qualify as dress pants and I suppose no one would notice my motorcycle boots but they get a bit hot after a while.
Rachel hands over her position on the main police channel to Nelly...
...someone has to listen to the channel every second of every day in case an officer calls for help, so the changeover takes a matter of mili-seconds. Night shift settles in and we adjust the chair heights, open the blinds... 
...and watch a rain squall wet the parking lot and Garrison Bight Marina across the Boulevard. I am on Channel Two tonight so I have six computer screens to monitor as I run arrest warrant checks on anyone the officers come in contact with. Jessica dispatches Fire and Rescue and shares phone answering with me. Administrative and 9-1-1 calls are all answered here. And so the three of us log in to our various screens as darkness starts to fall outside. It's weird how serene and peaceful this room gets sometimes in contrast to the moments of controlled chaos when we find ourselves asking people the oddest and most intimate questions.
I am looking forward to a quiet night so I can get on with To Have And To Have Not, the community book reading project. However the department has my soul until six in the morning and if the night goes sour I could be run ragged for the next twelve hours with non stop warrant checks and phone calls. Keeping my fingers crossed...