Steve and Judy's Travels!

I was on the only road here, and it was just barely passable, but I’m almost certain the sign didn’t mean this road.

…or me driving on it.

Plowing the edge of the sidewalk.

And skipping across the trail.

Twinkletoes.

And the tire pressure alarm goes off.  Not enough air in one of my tires.  I pull over.  Do I change the tire?  Do I call for roadside service and wait?  Do I go ahead and drive two miles to the nearest gas station and hope the tire doesn’t go flat all the way, or blow out on the way there?  I haven’t had much luck with air pumps at gas stations lately.  No such thing as free air any more.  All the machines require coins, bills, or cards, and last time I was at the gas station I’m closest to, I couldn’t get the pump to work at all.  Driving to a functioning air pump is going to be a crap shoot.

So, what do I do?  None of the above.  I get out the latest technology we carry in the cars.  A portable, hand-held, USB rechargeable, tire pump.  Always at the ready.

Set the pressure you want your tires to be.  Attach to the valve stem.  Press go.  Wait.  It’s not fast, but it works great!  Every tire perfectly topped-off.  Problem solved.

They’ve been in the news lately. I suppose there were atmospheric rivers on the west coast when we were kids, but we never heard that term then.  Old phenomenon, new terminology.  In the 1950s our perspective was much more local.  Meteorologists didn’t have access to the global information they have now.  I remember how much fun it was to play in the grassy park in front of our house after it rained for days at a time, the ground became saturated, and the park flooded.  All the usual games of football, hide and seek, and tag, also included splashing and sliding.  When the water receded enough that the grass was visible again, that was just the right depth to get the skim boards out and go skimming without having to walk to the beach.  (Not that the six block walk to the beach was a burden.)  The park flooding didn’t happen very often.  Not every year.  Maybe just a couple times while we were there.

So, with our local perspective then, and the fact that we were kids, unusual rains were just a fun thing.  A hundred miles away might as well have been a thousand.  If there was news coverage on a broader scale and an appreciation of larger patterns, that awareness escaped us.

A cooper’s hawk.

Finishing up a meal.

I can’t make out from the remains what the meal used to be, but whatever it was before, it has been deconstructed now.