My Little Pony

Every so often, some part of our non-sailing life leaks into this blog. We were not on the boat this past weekend, so this is one of those leaks. This past weekend, we put Jane's 1965 Mustang into the Greenwood Car Show down in Seattle.

This is not a Concours d'Elegance - it is a shine-n-show (capitalization or lack thereof intentional)... that is, it is open to any car.  Hundreds of them.  They block off 20-25 blocks of Greenwood Avenue in Seattle, and the cars park diagonally all along that entire route, on both sides.  The crowds are huge.

Because of the number of entrants, just getting the cars into place is an exercise in logistics.  We had to be in line to enter at 05:30...  just imagine how awake we were.

We had attended the show before, but being a participant is an entirely different experience.   There is a camaraderie amongst the participants, regardless of their car types (next to us were a 1967 Mustang and a 1988 Monte Carlo; across from us was a funny car dragster) that is invisible to those walking the route not as participants.   It was a lot of fun... and a LOT of walking (well sure we walked the route too... much of it before the crowds arrived).  In fact, one of the benefits of being a participant is that we got to see most of the cars drive in.  That is, we got to hear the cars drive in...  Lotta cool engines...

Finally, Jane calls her Mustang "My Little Pony", so of course she went thru the closet full of our children's old toys and pulled them out for placement on the dashboard.  They were still a real attraction for girls of all ages as they walked by.

My Little Pony

Life storms

Recently found on a piece of paper that had been crumpled up and then flattened out again, Jane wrote this not long after 9/11:

Rain pelts the deck of the boat with fury.  I lose my footing as gusts of wind force the ketch to roam the slip without consent.  Listening to the barrage, the rain becomes heavy on my shoulders and seeps into my conscience.

Why does this glorious essential plague me so?  Often its tip-toe sound lulls me into a blissful sleep.  But today the edge of gray-blue silver drops cut to an area of my thought that is vulnerable.

So much on my mind makes the visitor seem intusive.  Why now?  I am heavy with a need to make decisions, which seemingly made, won't have any impact on the course of events.  The visitor challenges my significance.

Maybe the challenge is not as first perceived.  As I ride the storm, the headlines of the paper on the settee ebb and I concentrate on the integrity of our ties, securing the spring line to comfort the craft.

The ketch no doubt would have suffered no real harm.  Yet now I realize my wet encounter found me decisive and directed.  I took no time to ponder the what-ifs or what-mights.

Lines cleated for life's storms.

Life storms