Moonshine

Another Day In the Park

Three trailers over my good friend Jungle Jim is revving the motor on his old Triumph motorcycle. The sound is just distracting as hell, especially when I am trying to Blogulate and Edify. But there is nothing to be done about it; to Jim it is the Music of the Spheres and also totally necessary as he tries to get his crotchety old Weber carburetor to do its proper job. Many, many years have passed since that motorcycle left the factory and it takes a genius like Jim to keep it alive. I know all this and appreciate it and so the revving of his old engine, while distracting, is music to me also.

Plus I appreciate my friend Jim and feel indulgent towards his sometimes crotchety proclivities. Old guys should stick together and we do. It is not a secondary consideration that Jim has an old Raleigh Pro stashed away in his stash room and he has not thrown a leg over that bike in Lo These Many Months. As you all know, the TPC is not a covetous or materialistic person, but me and Jim are the same size. And that Pro has a full Campy drive train.

But That's Not All

Also filling my ears is some birdsong and squirrel chatter outside my door. It is mid-winter Florida, we are suffering from some downright chilly 50 degree nights and it only got up to 70 yesterday...

Trains!

Wait...as I type these words the Florida East Coast Railway train just blew through. The tracks are only about a half mile from my trailer door and it is one of the comforting sounds of my life. I live in a really sweet and quiet place. That FEC runs on a schedule and it reassures and guides me through the night. In the old days I would wake up at 3 AM and start worrying about every possible thing I could remember to worry about. But now the 3 AM train blows through in the middle of the night and I stir in my sleep and think to myself 'That's the Three O'Clock Train” and I fluff up my feather pillow and go back to sleep. I never dream about bicycles, but I wish I did. At 6 AM the Morning Train comes through and gently wakes me from my bicycle-less dreams and I start my day.

Two Doctors Are A Pair A Docs

To be gently awakened by a freight train is just one of the many paradoxes of the World of the Trailer Park Cyclist. Here's another: As a Blogular Wizard and Wordsmith of Many Wonders, I frequently find it necessary to skip work and massage my weary brain with morning beer and birdsong. This don't sit so well with Miss Jo the Trailer Park Manager. As I type these words she is at my trailer door.

“Are you busy?” she asks.

“I'm always busy, Jo. What do you want? I'm Blogulating.”

She comes in with a Spiritual Offering. By spiritual I actually mean spirits, as in the Old Way of referring to alcohol. Every so often Miss Jo gets a mysterious shipment of corn liquor from her family up in Arkansas and she then buys a couple gallons of apple cider and some cinnamon sticks and cooks up this heady brew that keeps me incapacitated for several days. I like it. Today is one of those days and one of the cool things about being poor and living in a trailer park is I can goof off, listen to birdsong and freight trains and drink moonshine and yet, miraculously, the World Keeps Turning.

Yet Another Disclaimer

Be Thou Not Jealous, my Friends and Readers! It is a life of Sloth and Cycling but remember: mixed with this glorious laziness are frequent periods of working on sewer pipes and mildewed floors and rotten walls. It ain't all drunkenness an foolishness. Sometimes I suffer.

But not today.

Remember When I Was Cool?

So...what about the bicycles? No news. I rode 24 miles a few days ago. That's my old Regular Loop that I have done so many times that I really do it as though it were a dream. My other More Better ride is the Daytona Loop, but I ride it less because it involves Old Highway One which is dirty, filled with tire-piercing debris and homicidal pickup drivers. But it takes me further afar and so I take it when I am feeling bold. Today? I don't know. Just hanging out with you guys and doing nothing. I could ride, but sometimes it is pure luxury to just be a dude (and a lazy dude at that) and share my thoughts and kookiness with my friends.

Tell them about Toby the Trouble Puppy, said the Voice.

“What?”

You know, how cute he was with his head on your pillow this morning and...

“Voice, this is a Lazy Drunken Dude Post, not a Gay-Turned-Into-Martha Stewart post. Man! This won't look good when your annual job review comes up! You know, there are a lot of Voices out there looking for jobs! You better watch it, buddy!” Stupid Voice.

That's not what you said when the Six O'clock train was coming through. He was licking your nose and you liked it.

Well, that's true. Ol' Toby the Trouble Puppy is one cute little rascal. What a day! Miss Jo will get by, as will the Blonde. Toby the Love Puppy will be a danged cute little dog, Miss Daisy will continue her noble Elder Dog status. The birds will sing, the squirrels will chatter, and the trains will run on time.  Hopefully, also: the World Will Turn.  I am somehow certain of this.

Treat yourselves today, my friends. You deserve it.

Whispering Pines Trailer Park and Distillery

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