Land Fishing

So here's the conundrum: you like to eat seafood but you don't fish...Well obviously you find a restaurant and order a fried fish sandwich, or if you are feeling less inclined to the starches you order a grilled fish on a caesar  salad and then you thank me for reminding you of two of the best local dishes you can find in the Lower Keys. Let's face it, there are tons of excellent eateries and dozens of styles and ethnicities of foods cooked for us but Key West is a former commercial seaport. So we want fish, it stands to reason, especially if you live here. 

My wife loves Fishbusterz so I love Fishbusterz, especially as I know we are getting seafood after she makes Fishbusterz noises. Key West Old Town residents have an excellent seafood place on Eaton Street which also offers seating with cooked seafood for consumption on premises. I have heard only good things about them but as I live (and my wife cooks) outside Key West we gravitate to the shops that involve less traffic and parking issues than those downtown. Having said that I feel an urge coming on to explore an Eaton Street fish sandwich...

Fishbusterz offers the proper range of local seafood as you might expect. However their history is quite interesting as they were started as a business to support local boats and offer a market for local fishing. Checking a  story I did on this place in 2008 you can see they have evolved over the past decade. 

They started out selling cooked food while highlighting their intimate connection to the fishing fleet. It was at a time when the commercial fishing docks on Stock Island were under threat of development and Fishbusterz stepped in to keep the fleet  from disintegrating. As it was commercial boats had retreated to the Stock Island docks from Key West Bight, pushed out by massive development.

 And so you can still find locally caught seafood  for sale...locally.

 And if you fancy a conch feast you can buy five pounds of the stuff right here. I am not a huge fan of conch or abalone (on the west coast) as I feel it's one of those foods that gets its flavor from the breading or the lemon juice or whatever coking agent is used. However I am almost alone in that, and this stuff is massively popular.

 Limes and lemons are for sale too, essential accouterments for fruits of the sea.

 And let us not forget suaces and spices from the Key West Spice Company.

 Clothing of one sort or...

 ...another.

 Yes and we should all love Stock Island, shouldn't we?

Fishbusterz is on the main drag from Highway One which starts out at the traffic light where the street is called Macdonald and then the road evolves into Maloney -don't ask, it just does- and on the right just past West Marine the low blue building will appear will all its fishy goodness. 

Motorcycles

Last year when I completed my ride to Canada on my Suzuki Burgman 200 scooter I rode slowly home and met a bunch of scooter riders I'd only ever known online on scooter forums. One of them, Eric in Virginia took to heart my desire for a replacement Burgman. Last week he texted me with a  deal I shouldn't resist. He found a 2014 Burgman 200 in a Houston suburb with 400 miles from new, and offered for a mere $2,000. I think the dealership had taken it on trade and wanted to get rid ofg it before the Spring rush. Eric said he'd love to ride it home for me -crazy- man and that is what he's doing, scheduled to arrive tomorrow, Saturday March 2nd.

It's a four year old scooter that has never been used and by the time Eric gets it home it will still have only 2,000 miles on the clock. We are a nerdy bunch on the scooter riding community but we have some amazing camaraderie. Eric's generosity won't get me riding sooner but it is an enormous morale boost to have the scooter and know I will be riding that very machine before too long.

Eric has enjoyed the ride as far as I can gather despite insistent rain. He also approves of the little scooter noting it actually offers excellent performance and keeps up easily with freeway traffic on I-10 along the Gulf coast. I have to admit it was nice to hear from Eric that he really liked my favorite scooter even though I already knew(!) what an unusually speedy performer this 200cc scooter is when pushed. And so we come to my photos of the day, a simple wander through my local motorcycle shop. Forgive me if motorcycles bore you or irritate you or frighten you; I miss riding and wanted to write just a little about it. Also I enjoyed playing with my iPhone camera in the shop... and you have to suffer for it. Sorry...

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I miss riding so from time to time I drop in on the  last shop in Key West.

 Except it's not in Key West, it's on Stock Island and it's the go to place to get motorcycle service.

 Consequently Jiri the owner is swamped with business.

 Is it such a badly paid trade no one wants to do it, he mused.

 I said it's probably because  no one is trained to do the work anymore.

 Easy enough to learn he added, also telling me about installing his own air conditioning.

 He talked to customers, I wandered around.

 I miss my scooter, but in a broader sense I miss motorcycling.

 I can't walk properly, my feet are still too swollen for proper shoes so I can't ride.

 But I wish I could. 

 I have entered a scooter phase of my life. I considered a proper motorcycle but it doesn't hit the spot.

 I think there is pleasure in the sheer simple utility of a scooter.

 But there is also a mischievous sense of fun in doing more with less. A long distance small capacity scooter? Say it ain't so!

 In a way it is a return to my youth when I criss crossed Europe and North Africa with unsuitable small motorcycles and improvised gear.

 The fact that I live in a  culture that allows only for huge motorcycles for enjoyable touring spurs me on to my madness. 

 Small is economical, small is fun, but small is not arm wrenching powerful.

 Small is easy to handle and makes a lot of sense but most people ride motorcycles as toys.

 A scooter is utilitarian and rather dull they think.

 The predictable among us seek the security of the huge V-twin, the Harley that brooks no competition, that is the default position of the unimaginative. So many machines to ride but only one will do. 

 It's like eating only your favorite dish every day, and worse it is most often done in company, crowds all riding the same thing.

 I say variety is the spice of life and in the world of motorcycles I have tried many of them including Harleys which are fine machines but not the only ones worthy of consideration in a long riding life.

 My Triumph Bonneville was the best but my clutch wrist has arthritis now and a clutch free scooter is indicated.

 Jiri's own bike is a Suzuki that has four cylinders, lots of power and is cheap and cobbled together from parts.  Just how he likes it. I want a Suzuki -a 200cc Burgman scooter not a 1200cc Bandit..

 Seen here working on a client's machine we talked of this and that, of our lives left behind in Europe.

 Jiri grew up under Communism and envied the bikes I rode on the other side of the Iron Curtain. Now we are equals in the New World.

We both like dogs.

How I Walk

Some days I feel as though I'll never walk normally again. It's a feeling that catches me by surprise. I find myself forgetting I can't get up off the floor, that my thighs are feeble that my core strength is slow to rebuild and then I push my nose over my toes, as the physical therapists encourage us to do, and I remember that standing and balancing and walking are still exercises that require thought and don't come naturally. 

My sister wrote me an encouraging note reminding me to be patient. She went through some tough  surgery which in Europe involves no bills or debt collectors or fighting with recalcitrant insurers but she spent five years recovering her ability to function. You wouldn't know it now but the path from here, where I stumble, to there where I stride seems endless.

At the gym a delightful neighbor full of vim and vigor and laughter told me about her car wreck that broke all the bones I broke plus a few more and she too walks and exercises with no sign of once being broken. So I know that indeed eventually I will throw away my cane and walk normally without rolling like a drunken sailor. My wife found this walking stick with a seat on Amazon. Many people who see it in action are amazed by it:

I use it, rather than my rolling walker these days when I am setting off for an uncertain destination. When I go to the pharmacy where bottling a  handful of pills takes forever and standing in line to drop off a prescription takes an eternity my three legged cane/seat is a godsend. It is heavier and clumsier than my basic cane but it is wonderful when I just need to sit.

I have increased my hours to 32 per week in eight hour shifts. I start at ten at night and work till 6am four nights a week, which puts me back with my regular night shift and that feels really good. I no longer feel like a supernumerary working with whichever shift needed coverage. However eight hours straight is taking some getting used to. In the old days I worked 12 hour shifts every two days and added overtime. Nowadays I feel as weak as a kitten by comparison. Patience they counsel.

My colleagues have donated sick leave to help me out as mine ran out after four months away from work, which was quite a long time. The donated leave is wonderful as it means I have never missed  a paycheck since this fiasco began at the end of August. My health insurance is covering the bhills such that my wife isn't panicking and a legal eagle is looking into why the women who caused the accident had so little insurance, not even enough to cover the cost of the helicopter flight to the hospital. Luckily because I'm a county resident my $15,000 share of the flight ($25,000 for the insurance company) was waived. I am very glad the private helicopter company that used to fleece people is gone, hopefully forever.

I drive myself to and from town, backing into the driver's seat and swinging my legs into place after I have sat down. I keep my cane on the passenger seat, and my phone is always in my pocket. These days its a 911 device in case I fall. The odd thing is my nerves in my thighs are still growing back so I can't feel it in my pocket and I have developed what looks like a nervous tic patting my thighs to make sure my lifeline is where it should be.

Climbing stairs is a slow difficult process fraught with the possibility of failure. Because I can't feel my right leg properly I'm not sure where my foot is so stepping up of down involves swinging the leg more like a croquet club and when it hits the back of the step I know it's safe to put weight on it. Climbing or descending stairs also requires putting my weight on only one leg at a time and that is exhausting. There is so much to think about I'm surprised I have time to think about writing this page. 

I walk with my camera, I think about the settings and choose black and white or color, I look for contrasts and oddities and it takes my mind off my walk, my slow gait, my dog slowing down patiently to allow me time to keep up. The camera helps me to see more than ever the world around me rather than looking dismally within myself.

Color:

Black and white. In this case I prefer the monochrome. I think the absence of color lends itself to the peeling paint and the contrasting sky. There I wasn't thinking about the burning in the elg I can't feel properly. That's a paradox, I can't feel the leg but it hurts when I use it. Explain that, I can't.

Eventually it will all sort itself out. Soon I hope I will get to wear shoes again. The doctor is pleased by the reduced swelling in my feet but I still have to shuffle around in slippers like an old man. Later this month I return to the hospital for one more operation, this time to remove a blood clot filter inserted in my groin which I shouldn't need anymore as I am quite mobile and blood clots shouldn't be forming in my legs. One more step to being normal which is I find a highly desirable state to be in.