One time in the 90s I went to a publishing conference at which I
met a couple who worked at the same publisher. They went on and on about how
great their jobs were, and wasn't that what it was all about?
Summer 1993, Lincoln, Nebraska On my way to the library I passed a cute little Harley-Davidson sitting in someone's driveway. It was like a big Harley-Davidson but in miniature: very unusual. On the way back I saw a guy in bib overalls whom I took to be the owner of the bike, so I stopped and complimented him on the bike. He got a kick out of my interest and proceeded to tell me how he had rebuilt the bike from a jumble of parts ("It came in a box," he said) over the past few years. He did a great job because the thing looked brand-new. I lost him on a few arcane details, but basically the bike - a Harley-Davidson Sprint - was built in Italy in or around 1967, at a time when Harley was trying to compete with the huge influx of small Japanese bikes and their ilk. The guy used the term "entry-level" to describe the general type of bike, but while other companies produced "step-through" scooters and whining 2-strokers, Harley simply produced a s...
BNormal, Illinois April 28, 2020 I just got back from Kroger’s after I first walked downtown to drop off recycling, and then turned around to go north past the dollar store to Kroger’s. I had a little adventure when I stopped at a point more than hallway back to wait for the bus because I was tired: A little but muscular black guy in a tank top and a pork pie hat, to whom I have given a little money in the past, was talking nonstop to a nice plain young black woman, and she really didn’t pay much attention to him because he was just an old guy, blabbering and jabbering. He is in good shape, though. He was talking and talking and dancing around a little. I’m sure he does very little work but is just so charming and funny that he gets along and gets by and enjoys life. I had a red bandanna on my face because I put it on to go into Walgreen’s to see if they had any fresh flowers, but they didn’t. However, I had stopped to take a picture of some really nice tulips a...
Monona County, Iowa 1995 The guy was wearing blue jeans, an army jacket, and a baseball cap. He took off his cap to reveal close-cropped graying hair. His face was lean and muscular, and his eyes were bright. “Do you want me to strap in?” he asked as I buckled my seatbelt. I said yes, and as he hunted for the belt, he said, “Never use ‘em myself. I was in the paratroopers in the war, and I don’t like to use ‘em. If I’m on a plane, I want to sit in the back and not wear a seatbelt. If something happens, I want to get out of there fast. Ya know, they can’t force you to use one. Most plane accidents take place on landing or taking off, so what I do, I just go up to the first-class section.” “You mean on a commercial airliner?” I asked, noting that he had put the shoulder strap over the wrong shoulder. “Yeah,” he said, and then adjusted the strap after I pointed out the correct position. The guy then started rapping about how he was going to Fargo, North Dakota, to join...
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