Checking out the Low Life

I don’t even remember how long it’s been since I unplugged my television, five years, maybe? Not unplugged, actually, just unplugged the cable; the television shows I watch, these days, orginate on the Internet, so I’m not exactly in touch with the cutting edge of pop culture.

While browsing Hulu dot COM, recently, I came across a series of shows from 2007 titled, “Livin’ The Low Life” which showcased several California low rider car clubs, their histories, as well as the history of low rider customizing.

I’ve always been a fan of low rider customs, not that I’m a “car guy”, but I like the vintage cars they use and appreciated the creativity of the builders. I find the wild custom paint jobs and dramatic murals appealing, as well, especially the fantasy art featuring sexy Aztecas or pin-up girls.

Glamorous women are very much a part of low rider car shows and photography and the host of “Living The Low Life” held true to form. I hadn’t heard of Vida Guerra, before, but I was entirely impressed with her easy,confident manner and sense of humor. She also matches my scoot, making her a possible subject for a fuel tank mural.

A Family Portrait

Another weekend in paradise has been accomplished and Daughter’s birthday was observed along the way. Yes, she’s all growed up and ready to venture forth to the capitol where she’ll study design at the Art Institute of Austin. Since her Yamaha motorcycle is going with her, Jill and I found her a cool tail bag to put stuff in. A girl needs her stuff, you know. When asked how she’d like to celebrate she opted for a family ride and dinner.

We rode Ocean Drive, which curves around Corpus Christi Bay, down Shoreline Dr past the bay front and marina and over the dilapidated Harbor Bridge to North Beach where we patio dined at our favorite restaurant.

Of course, part of Jill’s agenda was to get some family photos before our little bird flies. You may recall from past posts that the restaurant is adjacent the USS Lexington museum. There is a breakwater that curves past her and ends close to the ship channel. It made for a nice setting for pictures, though I was voted down when it came to how far we should walk.

The sun was getting low and the wind was blowing nicely over the breakwater that is weathered and narrow, in some places, but intrepid shutterbugs get their shots. Here is my gang: Lir, Olwen the Jill, the luckiest woman in Flour Bluff.

The picture was taken at the end of the breakwater with downtown in the background. From the same spot, a little shuffling of feet and rotation puts the Harbor Bridge in the background. The bridge was built in 1959 but is no longer maintained since City Council claims we need a new one. The old lift bridge further up the harbor has already been dismantled, so if the Feds don’t come through with funds we’ll be driving 100 miles to get around 100 yards of water. If there’s not a real estate sale involved, they don’t plan very far ahead; but that’s neither here nor there.

Here’s a pretty nice shot of the breakwater and the Lex. The top of the breakwater is narrow, here, so Jill had to work for it.

On the way home we stopped for a little more mugging before the sun got too low in the sky.

We heard birthday cake calling our names so we saddled up and headed for the barn.



Olwen inspected the cake Jill baked for her, telling me, “Alright! Green and chocolate, my favorite colors!”

“Chocolate is a color?”, I asked.

“It is when you’re a girl!”

A good time was had by us. I like my kids.

Independence Day Fun

Saturday night, July 4 (American Independence Day, for you out-of-towners) found me and Jill playing music with Pete Devlin at the Blue Marlin bar on Corpus Christi's "North Beach". The bar is a block away from the USS Lexington naval museum.

Shortly after dark we broke for an impressive fireworks display, launched from the flight deck of the Lex. The stereo across the street blared Cream's "Sunshine of Your Love" to the rockets red glare while bombs burst in the air between us and the moon.
Was it good? My nipples are still hard.

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Staying Sane on the Coastal Plains

This past weekend proved to be both full and rewarding, at least in my immediate corner of the world.

One of the rewarding aspects was that our trio, Rosewood, was invited to play at our town’s oldest festival, Buccaneer Days.


While there were many entertainers, there, I found it gratifying that we had been heard by one of the officials, who then had an assistant contact us. Most send a tape to the Buc Days Commission and play for exposure. We’ve already exposed ourselves many times so we were plied with pizza, beer and gas money, as well.


We were scheduled to begin when the carnival gates opened, Saturday and of course, we were on time and in tune long before the sound engineer finally arrived.



I took a turn around the music pavilion a snapped a couple of photos while the site was relatively empty.




Naturally, someone’s baby momentarily sidetracked me.



There was the requisite Ferris wheel and fun house.




Disco Fever wasn’t the affliction that was on a lot minds, this weekend, though. I’m told attendance was down, considerable, from previous years, probably due to concern about the possibility of exposure to Swine Flu. The school district canceled participation in the traditional lighted parade by the bands and drill teams, so there may have been an uncharacteristic lack on enthusiasm by the public, as well.

The show must go on. The Buc Days carnival is more than stomach-turning rides and cotton candy and it takes people, many who volunteer their time, to insure its success.
One such people is Sandra, who vended beer at the music tent. At first, she was reluctant to be photographed, but, after I explained that I recorded my adventures for motorcyclists, she consented and mugged and said, “Mike’s the best” for the camera (no “cheese” in my pictures).









I wandered back into the pavilion to tune my instruments and, there, met Cornerstone Band members from the town of Goliad.
Since we don’t have a drummer, they asked if they could go ahead and set up their drum kit and put their amplifiers on the rear of the stage. Since we had more bandstand than we needed, and the sound guy still hadn’t turned up, we agreed.



Darryl was joking around with their drummer, perhaps considering life as a rock musician.


Before start-time, soundman turned up and music began.
The day turned hot and so did the fiddling.

Having fulfilled our contractual obligation, Buc Days Commission did the same, finalizing our dealings

with pizza and beer in the travel trailer set aside for that purpose. Now, that’s my idea of carnival going.




Sunday, I managed a little airtime or, rather, time in the wind.
A close friend and erstwhile pillion immerged from her studies and obligations to shed a welcome, though unexpected, ray of sunshine on Rosewood’s Friday

performance.
She had been hitting the books pretty hard so, as an official Pretend Psychiatrist, I prescribed wind therapy, for Sunday.



We hit some back roads skirting the bays, en route deciding to lunch at Alice Faye’s Restaurant, on Fulton Beach.

We were dogging it, living the high life enjoying the view from the deck even though there were few boats in the marina.



Fresh seafood? You bet. This is one of the boats that help bring the good things of the sea to table.




A slow ride back to Corpus town and a stop to drink soda and admire motorcycles at the “biker bar and grill” and it was time to call this day a day.


The road goes on forever.