I took a ride the other morning over to South Portland along the water. I was looking to take some photographs of Portland from across the water. I found myself among the oil storage tanks that line the Route 295 bridge. Looking down next to a short walkway, I noticed a stack of piles rolling into the water. The oily smell was a bit sickening, overwhelming at times. I didn't stay long. It reminded me of the times we walked among the buildings of the paving company at the end of Bishop Street, at night. The smell of the tar was sweet at first, but after a while it began to make you ill. We didn't stay there long. I'm not staying here long today either.