The day started on a somewhat normal note. The eyes popped open around 4:15, I wandered into the kitchen, turned on the coffee pot, fired up the computer, and sat back to read a chapter or so in the good book.
I kicked off the work day around 5:00 with a phone call to David Inman in London. This was the first turn of the wheel in regards to promotion of Ghost Towns of Route 66 in the United Kingdom.
Next came a quick perusal of the email and another round of spirited discussions about how best to utilize Route 66 to promote Kingman. A few very well intentioned folks are hoping to link Kingman with the movie Cars.
My opinion is that this ship has sailed and it would be better if we focused on developing attributes unique to Kingman. Unless we can get away with renaming the place Radiator Springs.
Lets see how this debate plays out and what, if anything, will come of it. Lord knows, I have been wrong before and it is painfully obvious that I am not always the sharpest knife in the drawer. Moreover some of these folks have had a very long string of successes.
For the upcoming trip to California reservations were made in Calabasas. Then, for reasons unknown, I decided to skip reservations for Sunday night and instead see where we end up even though the primary goal will be the Wigwam in Rialto.
Between our evening in Calabasas and the evening ending some point to the east of that, there will be the signing of books at Barnes & Noble in Calabasas, a visit to the farmers market in Malibu via Topanga Canyon, a visit with Dan Rice and his wife on Santa Monica Pier, and another stop at the Farmers Market on Fairfax in Los Angeles.
As I looked through the maps hoping to find a hidden passage through the labyrinth of traffic congested streets in the Los Angeles area it dawned on me, the Jeep still needed to be serviced. Another item added to next weeks schedule.
It was at about this point that I entered that weird place where a minute becomes thirty seconds and the pace begins to quicken. My dearest friend joined me about 6:00, my dad in Michigan called, and then I was behind schedule, which resulted in me driving to work rather than riding the bicycle on a crisp fall morning. Still, no complaints.
I arrived at the office and realized my stress level may be higher than realized. One look at trucks scattered about as though they had been abandoned while still rolling and left to rest where ever they stopped set blood to simmering.
It seems like I would be used to this by now. For reasons unknown a large percentage of my customers seem Hell bent on parking trucks as close to the building as possible even if it means blocking a driveway, putting a wheel on the sidewalk, or parking so close to the next truck you can’t open the door.
One of my favorite episodes in the morning ritual of sorting out this bizarre rendition of the Chinese box puzzle occurred about two years ago. I arrived at the office to find a large truck and trailer jackknifed around a pole.
Well, I had a fit of carnality and asked no one in particular, as I was the only one there, what one eyed blind man had parked it there. Later that morning the customer called and with great patience I asked how his trip had gone.
Imagine my surprise to hear, “It well until I broke my glasses and lost my eye.” Now, I am being forced to suppress hyena level laughter as the vision of a one eyed blind man careening through traffic is implanted in my mind.
As it turns out the gentleman had a glass eye but preferred to wear a patch. The eye was kept in his pocket and he wore glasses. Apparently when getting fuel in Flagstaff he had broken his glasses and at some point misplaced his eye. Welcome to my world.
Well, the sun is sinking into the west behind the foothills of the Cerbat Mountains, Route 66 is shadowed with contorted shapes, and the end of another day is at hand. At the office things have gone rather well., its time to savor the company of my dearest friend and a bowl of home made chilli. Then its off to check on mom, make another stab at getting her house cleaned up and out, and if time allows, another episode in the unfolding saga of John Adams.

If you enjoy Jim Hinckley\'s America, take a second to support jimhinckleysamerica on Patreon!
Become a patron at Patreon!