Of course I have mere lechery for that coupe, Patrick. Yet it does ground the rest of the SoCal palm haze boundary wall atmosphere.
Here’s a piece of automotive candy from Carmel:
And a reality check from Eureka, which magnetizes many homeless people. The truck was charred and the crutches abandoned.
Breakfast hunters, apparently not prone to situational irony, in Williams, California.
Sea lion mates resting on the dock in Eureka.
Someone left Christmas/New Year oranges on the grave of Mr. Matsumoto in Reedley, in the San Joaquin Valley. He was probably a citrus grower or packer/hauler.
Mr. Kimura was a citrus hauler. His bench depicts the pride in his fleet.
Arts Walk night in Eureka. I had just hung a show in this café, and sat to await viewers, buyers (ha ha, alas), and friends.
But people in cafés prefer people-watching to photographs of animals gazing at the photographer...
And since I did not need to pretend to appreciate my own photographs on the wall, at last I stepped out to photograph a lovely young accordionist. With a fake mustache.
And then I just kept walking to the square, because photographing is better than babysitting a show of your photographs.