First thing back in Cali I returned to the Pep Boys for a replacement

car cover but hesitated to install it although without one the rust will never sleep.

While pondering this on Saturday who should show up two doors down but Toolie Jerkoff [remember the reno that began over a year ago which was still going when we left in May?  Still not done, apparently] with his two-tone “Supermacho” F-250 sporting more gratuitous chrome than a fire engine and his equally gratuitously loud compressor. Fortunately we had somewhere else to be, Inverness for instance. I hid the ’45 behind the gate and

out into the glare of the world we went, ending in a Fog at the Tomales Bay Resort.

This was followed by Jon Fernandez’ Historic Birthday party in the aftermath of which

we woke to soft airs, seawater smells, a continental breakfast

and still made it home by noon, where Toolie, for all that all day compressor noise we mostly

missed, seemed to have set about six not very straight fenceposts and was blessedly absent.

The week began, fine with me, with indictments to [minor] Trumpians and Weird Benicia Cars.

Trumpsters to the Dumpsters!  Throw ’em under the bus; it’s the American Way

…at least as long as public transportation survives.

Around town

and Now

November; the day after Hallowe’en

a Borgy at the Yacht Club,

yachts in the channel

etc.