She's an attractive woman. Tall and rangy, shoulder-length wavy brown hair, clear frameless glasses, a checked plaid jacket, black sweater, pink striped T, black skirt, orange striped leggings, tall silver boots: and somehow it all fits together. Eclectic is the word, attractive too. He's clearly much younger than her. He's clearly also nursing an enormous crush on her. Looking like a disconsolate puppy, he keeps stealing glances at her.
She pays no attention. I feel slightly sorry for him.
Driving through the southern stretches of Arizona, I notice several vehicles that are used to advertise things. A truck trailer calls attention to "VERMALAND", mentioning vermaland.com which produces very little on my screen. Another calls attention to SAHARA, mentioning sahara1.com. Clearly sahara.com was taken.
And there's a London double-decker bus, wrapped in dull red something but identifiable as one of those buses anyway, that advertises Sierrita Restaurant.
Later on the same drive, I pass under Three Slashes Road. Later still, Sore Finger Road. Later still more, the Kashmiri friend at whose house I will spend the coming night calls, to ask where I am and give me directions. I pull off the road to talk. When we are done, I look up. I am stopped under a sign that says "Kashmir Road". I am not making this up.
Young man in rural Texas tried to persuade me to go stay at a fancy old hotel nearby. Two of his reasons were:
I see his point. And this was friendly advice. So I didn't let on that I have a record player and a few hundred records, so the novelty factor would be kind of wasted on me there. And let's be frank, typing on a typewriter? Not something I want to pay to do.
Oh, My dad would be so angry we made him get rid of his old typewriter. I can almost hear him say 'see, we could have sold it for a good price'! Forget that it barely worked.
Coming to think of it, it's actually been a long time since I looked at a real typewriter...
Where did I see it? Under a tin-shed, in a court complex...
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