After that Wednesday lunch with the librarian, the curator and the painter we continued being

entertaining into the night, feeding friends just back from Amsterdam and, soon after and after

a mostly giorno normale, my friend Greg [the aforementioned painter]

was kind enough to run me back from Alex’s after dropping the ’45 [not shown] to have the

carb cleaned only to find out on Friday that said carburetor was actually totally toasted…along

with the alternator and battery.  Uh-oh;  yet another serious blow to the Publishing Empire.

Nonetheless Sunday we returned to the green outskirts of Fairfield for more acupuncture, then

back for lunch in the garden followed by Benicia’s annual Car Show, the town overflowing

and the event well-stocked.

There was even a [very] high dollar electric ’50 Chev from Mare Island* as well as,

from Martinez, The Creature and

a whole lot else – low, slow, fast, bright ‘n’ shiny,

colorful crowds, colorful cars;

a crowded colorful day.

Somehow there’s always a ’39 – ’40 Ford fastback in the mix to remind me of the guys down Verdugo spraying theirs black primer when I was 13 and also somewhere a late thirties Chevy

to remind me of my first, though mine was a ’38 and this be a ’40. In deference to the dudes

down Verdugo mine was of course black primer; this one was a true black beauty.

By then on crippled feet I was up the street

past Benicia’s latest addition to the thriving Kultural Scene, now open for binins and though I doubt the artists who are “in” would be familiar with  Terry Allen’s earlier take on NY to CA

I’m sure Benicia’s doggies will greatly appreciate those golden water bowls.

Eart’ Day, 2023…into the light after, ironically, a celebration of ICEs.

*For the state of the art accommodating such wealth and taste one could also fruitfully look south to the folks at Icon for more imaginative builds. Either way a whole lot of money, honey…