Journey from the Mountains to the Ocean.

As I have been a welder for the past 30 or so years I have gained the insight of what flesh smells like as it is burning. Now- I know that we have all been stung by the iron, strawberried the elbow or drug the nose on pavement for a hundred yards or so in our lives, so we are all somewhat familiar with that funny smell. In My current position as "welder of new hospital piping in Charleston right over the marina eight floors in the air on top of the tall building" I have rekindled my familiarity with this olfactory delight. So for the duration of Lisa's "vacation" this summer, I started this new job of pipe welder in the sky. The pics may shed some delight on the jobsite as sometimes they do, but to fully appreciate the career move (downward spiral) one must recollect the aforementioned odor. WHY would a 30-ish, goal oriented, breathing, semi- intelligent man choose to be a construction welder again?! no answer here, just fill in the blank.

That is where the Scars portion of our show came from, but the stripes come from the vacation end of this summer. MY summer vacation started as Lisa's did with a trip to Denver on the tail-end of her time with family. I had realized that Kris had a steady tattoo artist he trusted with his skin, so I felt compelled to do the same.

This started with the Cannon's hand print on Kris' arm, I thought that it would be so cool on my shoulder, as he is always there with my thoughts. Then, once the idea of a tattoo being applied to MY flesh was accepted, I fell prey to the same ideas of other posterboard people. What about This... Or this...on my arm? or my ass?

The idea of tattoos had never really caught my attention before, because of the reality of living with someone who detests them --having to look at it......really slowed me down. not to mention the task of deciding...What to draw? What to draw from? What could I possibly want to carry on myself for the rest of my life? Shannon, of course, Lisa's name, of course. My kids, of course. But what has my skin got to do with that, and besides, family really may not want to be on my white pimply ass in 20 more years. Bleah!

So- parusing the magazines that fill my days with and without my wife, I fell on the perfect icon that represented what I want to be associated with for the rest of my visible life. Dragon?, Fish? Barb wire? bluebirds? SKULLS? Nope. The only thing that would exude what I mostly can carry on a conversation about is--Cars. not the Volkswagen, not the Buick, but hotrod cars.

All my walking life I have lived and breathed for the next cool car on the pavement, passing by, in a show, in a parking lot, going to the drags in 1968 with my Dad, The GT races in Vacaville with my Dad, the 1969 Oakland roadster show with MY DAD,

Frank and Dannie's '62 Austin Healey, riding on the "buddy seat", on the TV while my children were being born..You get the picture, obsession. Not just passing interest obsession, but the kind men have with boobies. Yeah, that bad. And all the while, my Dad and family were there, one way or another.

So when I now go to a clan of hotrods in a parkinglot, my right shoulder will tell the story- this guy is fuckin' crazy about cars. Yup, I am, just ask, I'll tell you all about the things. For Hours. This is what that tattoo thing is all about to me. I know that the public at large really doesn't give a flyin' shit about the things people draw on themselves, but when they can relate to that picture, or that cross, or that skull? tatooed on that guy or girl, they will ask.. WTF? Thats when it begins. Do you really want to know? yeah? well let me tell you the story of THIS.

Thanks for sticking with me, family, thru the '29 chevy that din't ever make it outa the garage, the metalflake dark green 68 chevy pickup that nearly crushed a good birthday cake for Dannie, The frenched antennae on the 72 junk green pickup, the '57 Chevy pickup we rebuilt on the driveway, The '34 Ford pickup that actually had a neat motor and BIG headlights, (see a pattern here?) the '64 Thunderbird, the '73 Volkswagen (yeah, that was also a project) the Cragar S/S equipped '93 Ford ranger PICKUP, and finally the mothballed-grey/red '64 Falcon, currently in possesion. Yeah, thats an obsession...all that grocery money.....

Well, I guess I wont rust away, and this is the coolest scar I've gotten so far. Thanks Eileen-at that Scary Place on Colfax, and again, thanks family for being so cool!