But such a world it was today, the sun shining, the skies, clear. Outside the window of the Pub, people walked, some in decorous constraint, other with the abandon of Spring, on bikes and skateboards and roller skates. Clusters of tourist walked through, marveling over the "Broad River" (huh"), gathering up in the middle of the trail as if there had been some recent train wreck there. Down the path, a hippie is stymied by a fence of plastic sheeting put up across one entrance to the path, just staring at it with that still, impatient gaze, as if the fence were some cow in the road, and he was simply waiting for it to move aside.
On the corner, a man in a red tutu and a girl with painted face collect money in a bright red bucket from motorists, not begging, a fundraiser of sorts, perhaps for the art park, perhaps some home for wayward mime's.
It's a place where I've walked many steps with many friends.
Because next to the hand cut sirloin dusted with Cajun blackening spice, and topped with a fiery sharp blue cheese crust and ghost pepper cheesy mashed potatoes was deep fried breaded jalapeno slices. I'd ordered one of their personal sized pizzas, since I'd had such a big breakfast, and like that Springfield 1911 at the Amish gun show at a seriously good price that I didn't bring home, I was starting to regret not getting the steak special
It was girl's day out, one long overdue, my spirit not up for company the last five weeks, just wanting to mend, and write, and mend some more. But today was a good day to get back out into the world, and perhaps smile again. I missed the gun show as I'd had an exceptionally long day yesterday and just wanted to chill for a few hours, but soon I was ready to go.
After lunch, and some reminiscing about old friends of the two and four legged kind, Tam and I hit the trail. Based on the calories consumed for breakfast and lunch, I will need to walk to. . . . . Ottawa. Well, perhaps just up the trail for a ways
I have never seen the river this high since I moved to Indiana.
Oh yeah, this is my ride. Hopefully no hippies wrote "wash me" on the tailgate in retaliation for that old flinging of the mussel shells incident at the Belgium Brew Pub last summer.
As I got to the truck I saw it, no, I'll think I'll pass. . . .
Bonanza Books of New York published Firearms Curiosa in 1955, and it is still the best-known of Winant’s books.
The contents, in order, are:
Combination Weapons; Miniature Firearms; Two-Barrel Revolvers, Two-Cylinder Revolvers; Squeezers and Knuckledusters; Alarm and Trap Guns; Knife Pistols and Cane Guns; Other Disguised Guns; Superposed Loads; Turret and Chain Guns; and Miscellaneous.
The book has got a lot of info on the one-of-a-kind museum pieces as well as mass-produced items such as the WWII-vintage Liberator single-shot .45 made by GM’s Guide Lamp division.
And who couldn't use a 24-shot revolver, (great, Cowboy, the 25th train robber just showed up), an armored vest with 19 pistol barrels sticking out of it, or a pistol that's a functional tobacco pipe.
It beats staying home all day and cleaning,
All in all, a good day, stored memories, to add to the memories that remain.