Conjunction

This is a coupling device found on the front of an AMTrak engine parked at the Thompson Point train station on outer Congress Street. Let's pull out our dusty English grammar books this morning. Ah, the conjunction. The lonely conjunction is the part of speech that conjoins phrases, clauses, words or simple sentences. And by the way, there is no historical evidence that beginning sentences with these little connecting words (and, but, so etc) is wrong. Hey, have I ever told you about the time we found a small wheelbase of a train workcar off the track down back? Well, we did and we got boards out and made a floor for it, and for the next month or so we had transportation to the great fort we built down back, behind the cemetery. There were work tracks back there but with no trains. Someday, I'll tell that tale. Today, conjunctions... tomorrow, maybe we'll delve further into the role of the coordinating, correlative and subordinating conjunctions.

Skidder Chains

Only in Maine? I live in an environment, where one day the discussion can center around books, and within 24 hours we're talking skidders and other big machines in the woods of Maine. On Westbrook Street heading towards Stroudwater, there's a small logging operation taking place near the Maine Turnpike, but it had a couple of skidders and another big rig or two at work pulling logs out of the nearby woods. Man, I'd hate to fix a slow leak in a tire this size. Back a ways, I was pretty good at repairing leaks in my JC Higgins' tires. A quick trip down to White's 5 & 10 to purchase one of those small cans containing a bike tire repair kit for your inner tube, and I was in business and back on the road soon. However, repairing this big baby would be a 50 man operation and probably take days! Hahahaha

Rusted Yellow

This rusted, yellow bulldozer seems a bit out of sorts in this field of snow, but even in the heat of summer, I think this machine would have some trouble getting to work. The first job that I ever had was delivering morning papers down Allen Avenue. My little alarm clock would buzz off at around 5 AM, and I was off. If I was smart, I'd jump out of bed, dress head downstairs and out the door. Some mornings I wasn't. I'd shut those eyes for just... and it was over. I hated getting out of that routine and heading out an hour later. The whole morning looked different. More people out and about. Cars I had never seen. Customers at the door asking, "Where you been?" It doesn't happen often these days, but if I roll over and see the number 6, the day always rolls along with me trying hard just to play catch-up. That's not a feeling I like to experience... except on weekends.

Bus Lines

The look of buses sure has changed. I caught the side of this Portland Metro bus with my camera, at a quick stop on the Hill. Portland METRO Bus provides bus service throughout the Greater Portland area and communities of Westbrook, Falmouth and the Maine Mall in South Portland. I rode buses a lot as a kid in the city. My first three years of school, I rode them daily from our house on Washington Avenue to St. Joseph's School. In the fifth and sixth grades, I was aboard them twice a week to travel up the Hill to the Lee Recreation Center to play basketball on the school team. In Junior High, the gang and I piled on them every Thursday night and ventured up Forest Avenue to take swimming lessons at the YMCA. I was on them a lot, and I can certainly tell you with factual accuracy that they did not resemble this one. They were your basic cream and orange color-schemed bus, small, loud with little heat provided. Advertisements were small placards, sprinkled about inside above the windows. I only read them when I was really bored to death. City-wide bus life today attempts to hit you over the head with a 2x4 with ads. Where the windows and doors located is a crap shoot. And the cost today? I'm sure is well above the dime it took me to get to my classroom back in the day.

Five

For the first 5 years or so of living in our home, this is what faced me each winter morning at about 6:30. We had no garage, so I scraped the windshield, a bit, and defrosted as I drove along. The garage was a good investment for many reasons. The biggest? Start the truck and go, of course. On the downside? There's always a flip side to everything, you know. Garages provide one with SPACE, and I LIKE to fill space. I'm sort of a pack rat. Far from a hoarder, but I do like to save stuff. Lots of stuff. I know I'm asking for trouble down the road when we move, but the old bottles I've dug up, the pieces of a three-hole outhouse we found when we moved in, saws and other assorted tools I never use, a couple of old Subaru tires, hundreds of vintage Rolling Stone Magazines, from the 70's stored away in boxes just enticing rodents to make homes in them and lots more I just can't seem to get rid of. I wish I was like my brother. He seems to keep not much more than the essentials around. Lugging crap to the local landfill is a passion of his. And why, why, why am I so darn sentimental about things. Not just these things but EVERYTHING! It's a cross I carry; I guess. By the way, think I have issues in the garage? You ought to see our house attic. I gotta get busy!

Twin Stacks

When I saw this sight out my driver's side mirror, I did a double take. Those twin smokin' stacks echoed only one thing... Duel. The 1971 made for tv movie, Duel, that is. It's the seemingly, eternal highway struggle between a 18 wheeler, tanker truck and a Plymouth Valiant on a lonely highway. Dennis Weaver is the bedraggled salesman, endlessly pursued on the deserted road. It's one of those flicks that, when I pass it on the dial, I can't stay away. Now, when I travel and hit the rest stops, I like to spend a few minutes checking out a few of the big rigs, idling in the distance. If I was single, I do believe this 'on the road' life would appeal to me. However, this borderline scary, rusted-out rig tale is not a big seller of that type of life style. Check it out, on TBS sometime this winter.

Going Here and There

Don't think underground travel here. Unlike large cities where the 'metro' means a subway system, the METRO in Portland is the bus line, that'll get you to among other places in the city proper the Maine Mall, Riverton, Westbrook and to South Portland. Those that follow this blog know that in my formative years I had quite a history riding buses. Occasionally, I still have bad dreams about forgetting my transfer tiocket or missing the bus up to the Hill and the Lee Recreation Center for my 6th grade basketball game. These days, my bus experience is pretty much limited to riding the 'dog' (Greyhound Bus Line) to Boston to catch a plane at Logan Airport or riding one of those comfort coaches south, while chaperoning a summer trip of teens. However, I must admit, to this day one of my favorite sounds in all of the world(yes, really, no foolin') is the shrill, tinkling tones of dimes and quarters making their way down the money slots of buses in my youth. Next stop, Munjoy Hill!

Jewel

It's cruise season in the city. The Old Port better get ready. LL Bean stock those shelves. Look out Kangamangus Highway! The tour buses are on their way. Unlike a lot of places that entice cruisers to warmer climates, the big draw in New England is the fall color and the stops at Portland, Bar Harbor and the eastern Canadian provinces. I stopped down at the new cruise ship pier, the Ocean Gateway, yesterday to take a look. The new Port of Portland facility can now dock two ships at the same time bringing twice as many visitors to the city's attractions. Bottom line, instead of backing in to the dock, ships now dock horizontal. It gives a landlubber a stunning view of the ship and the cruisers a magnificent view of the 'city on the hill'. We plan to cruise again next summer, but to places where we won't have to don jackets when we leave the ship.

Vintage Storage

Here's a look at the backside of a auto repair shop on St. John Street. It's a look you don't get to see from the front entrance. You'd be hard pressed to figure out that such a mundane appearance to the front would reveal such valuable commodities in the rear. Want to get embarrassed fast? Make a snap judgement without all the facts. We do it often. We fall into that easy trap and forget another adage that we were all exposed to growing up. 'Things are not always as they appear.' As we travel down that road of life, often the simple, prosaic aspects offer some of the most value. Don't scoff at first sight, on further reflection you might have witnessed something quite consequential.

Bus Stop

Schools open in the city today. My formal schooling began at Allen's Corner School and Perry Elementary School, both no longer standing. Then it was off to St. Joseph's Grammar School for six years, just a short 10 minute walk from our house. Lots of memories jump back at me. In Third Grade, I carried an antique butter churn up Stevens Avenue for a history project, and later in Fifth did a neat project on an explorer where we had to write a diary of their exploration. I chose Father Jacques Marquette. There were dark days too. In Sister Joanne's Sixth Grade adventure, I got in BIG trouble for opening Carol M's desk without her permission. I copied the dictionary after school. As I've stated many times... trouble finds me a lot!

Blue Bike

I had one of these in high school. I didn't want my driver's license; I wanted one of these. Dad tried his hardest to talk me out of it with many incentive-laced deals, but I had my heart set. He even said he'd get me that All-American car. Call me crazy! And by the way, many did. Nope! Not me, not then. At the time, there was a new Honda dealership opening on Forest Avenue, and I wanted in. When Mom and Dad reluctantly said yes, I paid the full price of $250 out of my paper route savings and excitedly drove out of the lot with my pride and joy. Why a bike and not a car? Well, sometimes I'm still puzzled by it myself. Maybe it was the freedom of having the wind in my hair and I had a lot; maybe it was just me listening to that 'different drummer' again calling me from off in the distance. Thank goodness I still hear that beat today. Was it the ad in the glossy magazine that touted "over 200 miles per gallon"? Are you kidding me? I guess I just needed to get it out of my system. I enjoyed immensely those years with my trusted friend. No, loved them! So few years really, so many memories made.

Pick-ups

Caught at rest in a parking lot nearby was this vintage faded, cream pick-up with its silver handle and slightly beat up gas cap. I bought a pick-up new once. Drove it around for a couple of years. It wasn't me. But I bet I could stand this classic sitting in my driveway, with the sun shinning off it this morning. This got me to thinking. You know how I can do that.Know where I'm going with this? Sit tight. Pick-up trucks, and I jump to pick-up lines. You know what I mean. Speaking of some classics... What's your sign? Do you come here often? Can I buy you a drink? Do you know who I am? What's your major? Wanna date my brother? What's your favorite Beatles song? Need a plumber? You a Sox fan? Ever climbed Everest? Don't I know you? But I am a doctor!

Ever use one( come on, don't lie to me this morning)? Ever had a good one thrown in your direction, no matter how far back? I had one used on me once, and it worked. "Wanna go look at the beavers?" REALLY! I kid you not!

Gotta a classic? How about ridiculous? Feel brave? Share?

Day Is Done

Here's another photograph that's found a bit off the beaten track. Search off of Canco Road and you'll find them. Sort of at parade rest, these trailers look to be done for the day, so to speak. I always anticipated spring. Why? Many reasons, but most of all, TaDa! new sneakers, of course! My brother and I got a new pair of PF Flyers or Red Ball Jets each spring. I had the entire summer to run them into the ground, and I usually did. Toes making an encore right out the sides! Heard of a '3 dog night'? Well some Julys and Augusts were '2 pair summers'. When the old feet were really pushing the limits'... of the fabric and Mom's patience with her growing tykes that is. I never wore socks and this created another problem that Mom recognized fast. Because I was constantly on the go: soaking my feet in swamp water on our quest for frogs, sliding into the dusty, dirt at home plate or riding my bike for hours on end it seemed, I suffered terribly from that dreaded 'summer boyhood disease': smelly sneakers. I had it so bad I had to put my sneakers on the open window sill at night to allow the cooling breezes to remedy the situation. When the gang slept out in our tents, as we often did, my shoes remained outside. They were rancid! To tell you the truth, I don't know if any of the other guys were afflicted with this disease, but I was and it wasn't that humorous. I'm better at handling this problem now. When the day is done, my work shoes remain in the garage or off to the side of the deck. Experience is the great teacher!

Theme Day: Green

I'm GREEN with envy on this one! Today, July 1, 2011 is Theme Day throughout the CDPB (citydailyphotoblog) community. A best friend of mine has this Harley Davidson V-Rod beauty in his garage. All steel and silver... it gives me goose bumps. Now, are you ready for a deep dark secret? I could really see myself roaring away on one of these iron horses. Of course, Elenka is shaking her head, NO, vehemently right now. I hear Harleys racing up the road many days... I hear them off in the distance, a mile away. Some days, I'd love to straddle one, feel it vibrating and race to the horizon line. But that's just me. I can dream, can't I? Varooooom!

Paving

We lived on Stevens Avenue, a main thoroughfare in the city. From Morrills Corner to Westgate Shopping Center, it's a direct shot of just a little over a mile. In that short distance you can start your schooling in kindergarden, attend elementary school, middle school, high school and graduate from college. Kind of unique, if you ask me. Since it was such a main drag, it got plenty of attention. During my elementary school years, there were quite a few summers that the paving machines and tar trucks lined the Avenue, and the smell of new laid tar permeated the air. After the layer of tar went down, sand was applied and was rolled. The sand was allowed to work its way into the new asphalt and vehicle traffic could proceed. For us and on our bikes, this was always a fun time (you could fly down the street at top speed and slam on your brakes and skid and slide all over the place, kicking up sand in all directions) and a dangerous time (during this activity, kids often went flying off their bikes rolling and tumbling in the street). These were times of major scraped knees, legs and yes, butts. It was summer in the city.

Front Seat#1

What places do you seek out that give you solace and creativity in this go-go world we live in? This week I'll show you some hangouts of mine that help me get my creative juices flowing. Believe it or not, I do some of my best thinking in the front seat of my truck, going here and there. Most times traveling just lets me sort of clear the air, set things straight in my mind of where I'm going and what's my best plan of 'attack'. At other times, my creative ideas seem to jump from a story or a song streaming from my radio or cd player. Lastly, when all else fails, it's that quiet oasis to just get away and be alone with my thoughts.

Best wishes to my good friend and bff 'annie's mom' on her B-day!
... and Happy Patriots Day!

Comin' At Ya!

This past fall many of the nearby islands suffered severe damage from quite a significant wind storm. Peaks Island was one of the hardest hit. The other morning at East End Beach, this logging truck was waiting to pick up a trailer of timber delivered from the island. The downed trees looked to be some mighty big spruce. I'd advise, if you see this number barreling down the highway at you, move aside and give her a wide berth.

Lost Trucks

Just where do aged trucks go to die? Like the economy these days, the GMC and Mack are lost in a sea of bushes, waiting out the autumn for another rugged Maine winter. I found these parked outside an abandoned factory, just outside the city. This photograph reminds me of days of jumping over the Stevens Avenue National Guard Armory fence and spending a Saturday afternoon rummaging around the front seats of the big army vehicles. We would sit for hours dreaming about driving the big trucks and never once were we ever bothered. Ah, I guess it was another time.

Ice Cream Memories

Always? These days, I'd say hardly! Now, white milk is not a big part of my diet, and when it comes to ice cream, I'll search out lots of brands before this one. Since the demise of Deering Ice Cream shops around here, I really enjoy Dairy Queen Blizzards. Hey, call me crazy, but I love them. July or February, I'm game! Really, I don't partake in a lot of Hood products, but back in the day... The H.P. Hood Company has been around New England for over 160 years. They used to have a a store and offices on Walton Street. As kids, the gang always knew if there was a trailer truck parked at the loading ramp, there usually was ice cream for the taking. It was free, and if we were lucky and the truck had only been there an hour or so, the back would contain some ice cream products in all stages of melting. If you dug deep enough, you were sure to reap the rewards of a couple still frozen Hoodsie cups or chocolate covered ice cream bars. Some days the truck was empty, but most days it held free treats for the boys. Always!

Candy Apple Chevy

There were lots of classics lining the parking lot at the recently held 10th Annual WCSH6 Auto Show. Of all the cars and trucks there, this one stole my eye. It's a 1940 Chevrolet painted what I'd call candy apple red. When I stop by these shows, I'm always envious of the owners polishing their 'babies'. I'd love to roll down the avenue in this beauty, see it parked in my garage, but whether I'd have the time, desire and the expendable cash to bring it back to life is debatable. Dad always had a line of second hand cars in the driveway to take on his night jobs in Falmouth and in the city. But point of information: they NEVER looked like this!