Travels With Oso con Migo

Odyssey In America

OAE On The Road Again — Migration to Conway

Nude Sunbathers Ahead

Greetings Virtual Travellers:

The End of May

Is MayNot next? A milestone today even tho I am not moving: I've consumed the last of La Casa Blanca's ice cubes! Fortunately there is yet some ten gallons of that same nice water tucked away in the reserves but my poor freezer will have to work overtime to make icecubes of it. I suppose I could always give up G&T, eh? Not bloody likely. It would be easier to give up B&J than G&T.

Dump and fill this afternoon. Ready for the on road again. Heading north to look for the Arkansas High Point.

North of Texarkana but Not Beyond Hope.

This is now June. Too early to tell where I will be for Field Day. Nice night at this Flying-J caravanserai wherever I am between Tex... and Hope. This is an old Flying-J and tho they have two RV islands they have no designated RV parking. I started out on the truck side but it was noisy and no grass where Sara(h) could play. After showering we moved to the other side. Like a dog looking for a place to lay The Cat Drag'd Inn circled round the carpark three times before finding the right space: Wifi, flat, seven car slots long, next to grass, not too close under trees, headed east is nice...

Danville ARkansasMuffler Man

Met one of Bill's distant cousins today. Joe Pennington lives in Murfreesboro ARkansas and has a twin brother named Bill. No relation? Family came west, not by much, from West Virginia a couple generations back. One of Joe's relations made it as far as Oregon but Joe stopped in ARkansas and built his home and business in Murfreesboro in 1970 and still lives in the same house. He goes by the handle Muffler Man and has a geocache in his front yard. Good way to get to meet new friends.

Now in Danville picking up trash for my camp spot. Today's road had its ups and downs; AR 27 is a narrow twisty two-lane-mostly-sans-shoulder highway I followed from Nashville to here. Across the Ouachita Mountains it is especially wriggly in three dimensions. Some hills gained or lost three hundred feet in less than a mile—better than 6% grade. After all the ups and downs the net change in altitude is about zero. Still cloudy hot and humid.

Driving between Dierks and Pearcy on U.S.70, listening on Channel 19,  I overheard some woman ask a trucker where there was a good place to eat. The trucker told her she should look for a place with lots and lots of trucks; either the food would be real good or the scenery would be. The woman replied that he was sexist and had no taste.

Day two in Danville.

Bill writes to correct me about my date for Nude REC Week. Should be July. The week following the 4th. Thanks for the correction Bill, perhaps I'll go find a wRECking Bar instead. Or should that be a wRECking Ball?
ARkansas High Point
To the High Point of the "Natural State" this morning but my state was anything but natural. Cool and drippy weather after the rain last night mitigated any daredevil behaviour. Would that Denali were in tow, she would have led the Way and provided me some incentive. Among the multitude of wildflowers hereabouts is one tall white plant that sort of looks like a cross between Canada Mayflower and Labrador Tea as found in the White Mountains of NH. This one is called Fly Poison but I was unable to pick one for Michael as it is also poisonous to people.  Hemmerly states that colonists used the bulb mixed with sugar to kill flies.

2009vi5, Toad Suck Ferry ARkansas.

Toad Suck CaravanseraiWhat can I say? That’s the name of this place. A Corp of Engineers Dam campground on the ARkansas River west of Little Rock. 13,000 acres of water (how many gallons is that?). Ozark Mountains. Eagles and fish live here. And perhaps toads? Sucking toads. What kind of toad are they that live under the tub at La Casa Blanca? Wandering slowly to the east from the AridZona Desert: State High Points, geocaches, one friends funeral, 2,000 miles so far. Mosquitoes are beginning to show up. And tall trees. I have long missed the tall trees; now, already, I am missing the desert. (Bill says that's because I have become a Permanent AridZona Desert Rat. I wonder if that is anything like becoming a "bony feed Sourdough" as Robert Service wrote of Major Percy Brown.) The cactus growing in the front window misses the desert. Sara(h) La Gata Sinte Ikusheya misses being out not at the end of her rope.

The dams along the river here are for flood control and navigation as opposed to power generation so they are low dams with locks which permit the passage of long barges.

Tonight perhaps I will see if I remember how to lay and light a fire and cook outside.

Not A Single Sucking ToadToad Suck Lock

Been here four nights and haven't seen a one. Lots of birds and squirrels, a few urchins with elders and dogs with elders, but no toads. Time to move on. My fire building test went well. A one match light. The cooking test was less well done. My potato was seriously overdone on the outside whilst quite underdone in the middle. A few minutes in the microwave took care of the innards and the oft spoke admonition of my venerable mother: "A little charcoal will never hurt you" (no reflection on /her/ cooking of course) along with a clout of butter made the spud quite tasty. The rest of the meal was passable but I'm out of practice.

Finally got to see a barge through the lock. As with a freight train made of cars this conveyance comprises several barges assembled by cables looped around bollards. Three barges wide and four long. The entire flotilla, including the tugboat, was close to nine hundred feet in length. The lock is only 600 feet long and 110 feet wide. From the looks of how the barge fit into the lock I'd say the three-wide part must have been 100 feet across. Quite a process. I must have sat on the bridge for more than an hour, maybe two.

After the tug pushes the assembly into the lock deckhands separate the forward half and secure it to donkeys on the rim of the lock; then the tug backs out with the second half and hydraulic rams with gears and arms close the upper gates. It was hard to tell how far the water drops, six to ten feet maybe (the specs describe 16 feet but perhaps that is how much it /can/ lift, what I saw didn't look that much), before the lower gate opens and the electric donkeys pull the barge out. Then the lower gate closes, the water comes up, and the process repeats for the second half of the flotilla.
Lightning hit tree
In the 'photo doesn't do it justice' department there is a cottonwood—estimated height 87 feet—in the campsite next to mine that has a fresh lightning scar from near the top all the way to the ground. The bark is open, bits of it lay scattered about, shreds hang from the tree. Such an event would have been something to see but I'd not like to be parked next to it.

Corinth Mississippi

I spelled that out just because I could. Still. Perhaps you can consider this my Letter from the Corinthians or if it turns out to be an upstanding missal it could be a Corinthian Column. Parked in the back lot of someplace on the west edge of Corinth. Looks a lot quieter and cooler than any paved carpark I might find further in.

An hundred miles and one geocache today after a late start from the Flying-J at Went Memphis. Much of the middle of the day, including nap time, I spent at the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis 10asee. I did not realise that this is the place. The Lorraine Motel still looks mostly like a motel until you get up close and then you are ushered into one of the best museums I have seen.

You must be the change you wish to see in the world. —Ghandi

I'm doing a little better. Mostly I am remembering why migration patterns typically follow north-south routes and why I've not been here on this east-west road too often. At least not at this time of year.

In Belmont MS there's a company named Chism Wholesale.

2009vi12, Friday, Decatur Hospitality Park

East bound access to this park is kind of tricky. At the east end of the causeway of the U.S.72 bridge over Wheeler Lake the exit to the park is not marked; you can make the turn if you see it coming. Even west bound, a big rig will have a tight turn but once inside the park offers a few good pullouts and a loop road to the west. To the east a big rig will have to unhook to turn around.
Burned out motorhome
Thursday had a tiny shower to wet the road and a couple of easy caches. One of them was at the Colbert County Welcome Center. Easy find; however the attendent told me how she often watches from her office as folks stand right over the cache and do not see it in the bushes.

Good visit to McKinney RV Salvage Yard in Red Bay. A bit of a ways off the beaten path but well worth your time and miles if you have some hours to spend looking for hard to find appliance replacement parts. Across the street was parked this hundred thousand dollar wreck. My first impression was that someone had been smoking in bed from the looks of the pattern of the fire. The coach had been parked on the verge in front of the warehouse when the local DWI flunkie careened of it with his pickup. The collision broke the fill valve off the propane tank and the rest, as they say, is charcoal.

Summer Solstice - All Down Hill From HereALHP all down hill from here

In the hills north of Hollywood ALabama, about midway along a line between Huntsville and Chattanooga. The temperature has a lot of going up yet to do, the humidity is right up there too. Five to ten degrees above normal already here on the side of Scraper Hill at the Velladrome. The bugs are loving it. Nasty bloodsucking carnivorous insects. Sara(h) has been collecting ticks; harvesting ticks from the forest, to feed to the wall clock I suppose except that she leaves them lying around. Fortunately they are easy enough to spot on bare skin. Chiggers are another problem. Worse. They very much resemble freckles.

The roof vent in the head has been replaced with a another assembly, including a fan, found at Red Hill,  for considerably less cost than buying one new. Together with the similar device already aft in the bedroom quite a breeze is created now.

Propane leaking from a regulator, DVD player not playing, and a serious power failure in chassis wiring have kept me from spending too much time out hunting for geocaches. The power failure is the worst part; it won't stay broke long enough for me to fix it. But I did manage a day trip south to find the ALabama HighPoint. That makes two.

I Came, I Saw, I Concurred

All of the above fixed or repaired and a couple of geocaches found; several other caches not found. I've come to the conclusion that cache hiders here in the verdant south must be immune to poison ivy and poison oak. With those two noxious weeds and the fast-growing vine kudzu the war of secession might yet be lost. Altogether tho the fortnight at Velladrome was a good rest and fun time.

On the road again eventually, around the bend and over the hill to pass through Chattanooga. My short visit with Nancy and Tab at the Tab Key brought out the local constabulary; I think perhaps the neighbors were concerned their purlieu was being invaded by gypsies. There was no place to park the bus at Tab Key so we moved on to Resaca and the Flying-J caravanserai. Good WiFi to spend a day catching up with all the spam. On 146.52 I met a ham who was actually calling CQ. KJ4CFT was delighted to have someone from far away to chat with and as he lived over east a ways towards Nicklesville and right along my route to GAHP we negotiated a visitation. John rescues abandoned dogs and cats so Sara(h) had her claws full with swopping storeys of life at the end of her rope for storeys of life inside a chain-link fence. Swopping my storeys with John also gave me a chance to do a much appreciated laundry and trade one of my Haiku Towels for one of his stained glass windows.
Paved to the top
Onward and upward towards the highpoint of Georgia. One of the aside quests of this Summer Camp on The Road is to stand on a few more of these geographic tourist traps. Once the domain of intrepid travellers, now many highpoints have become uppercased as various agencies and entrepreneurs come to recognise the income value. Organised, listed, marked out on AAA roadmaps, paved to the top even in some cases, HighPointing, with or without membership in the HighPointers, has become more than just something to do. At Brasstown Bald one climbs a couple thousand feet of elevation up a narrow twisty State Road 180 to a small sign that proclaims "Steep Road Ahead - Leave Trailers Here" where there is a gravel turnout at Jack's Gap. Tilted off into the poison ivyed border, fraught with gullies and overhung with antenna grabbing trees, this wide spot in the road offers little in the way of access from the highway or protection from the traffic. But it was flat enough and large enough to accommodate The Cat Drag'd Inn under the trees. Double-digit grades up the three miles of the Brasstown access road kept the Tiny Truck in first gear most of the way. Just in beyond the gate is a sign "Fee Information Ahead" but you have to climb all the three miles before the kiosk—honour system if no ranger on duty. Then they want three dollars per person to get in and you're not even at the top. That's another half-mile walk or you can spend another three dollars for shuttle service. Fortunately I have an Postcards for a dollar each rack"Elder of The Tribe" passport and I can still walk half a mile. But even saving that six dollars did not offset the consternation of finding postcards priced at 1$ EACH! Thirty cents apiece seems to be the going rate elsewhere; they must be carrying these up the hill one at a time on the backs of well paid sled-dogs only in the Winter. At a dollar apiece you don't get any postcards from Brasstown Bald, a picture of the postcard rack will have to suffice.

Sara(h) Hikes the AT

More over the hill and around the bend driving down from GAHP and up again into North Carolina to where the Appalachian Trail crosses u.s. 64 at Winding Stair Gap. A break in the guardrail of this land of gaps and knobs—Sheep Knob, Swinging Lick Gap, Milksick Knob, Panther and Rattlesnake Gaps—a widespot to park is very inviting after all day driving 134 miles from Resaca. Sara(h) went hiking on the AT for a while until rain and thunder drove her back to the shelter AT The Cat Drag'd Inn.

July in Waynesville North Carolina

sculpture gardenNude REC Week starts any day. No one to REC with here. Alone again, naturally.

Visiting Jan and Michael, who like me, are expatriates from New Hampster, the Not-so Live Free or Die State. So far along this road of the past few weeks, if I could combine the best features of Scottsboro with the best features of Waynesville, this would be a very excellent place to get stuck. We'll come back to that in a moment. Very excellent sculpture garden in Waynesville. Behind the Walker [automotive] Service Center is a jungle of metal trees, flowers, and spiders. Stop and say hello to Grace Cathey and look at the work inside her studio.

Lakes and rivers all around this Haywood County Seat, the Appalachian Trail not too far away, a most interesting Main Street, Asheville closer than Phoenix is to Tonopah; but no hot spring water in the ground, a considerable drawback to be sure. Oh Well, if I've learnt anything during all this travelling over the past few years it is that nowhere's perfect; I suppose that is why I am still travelling.

The last time I visited Jan and Michael was when that wench passing on the right side-swiped the bus and nearly tore off the front bumper. Perhaps it is some bad karma leftover from one of my ancestor's relationships with the Cherokees. This time, coming into town from the south, on u.s.23, there began with no particular fanfare, an annoying tiny wriggle in the indication of the turbo boost pressure gauge. Whilst unhitching the little truck in front of the house where Jan and Michael live I noted a strange new sound emanating from the air intake, a kind of chuffing, chuff-chuff-chuff, in step with the other cyclic rotational sounds the motor makes at idle. Not a good sound.

Mechanic Paul, at home port in Center Conway, says it could be just a carboned or sticky valve. Or it could be a burned valve. Either way... Who knows... WTF?
spider and web

2009vii14 - Happy Bastille Day!

But so far this is only the 12th and The Cat [has] Drag'd [the] Inn 225 miles from Waynesville to just beyond Burlington NC and put in to a truck stop for the night. It was a trying time getting started after 12 days of sitting still but I think I remembered everything. Just kept saying my mantra: It really doesn't matter-It really doesn't matter... The motor is worse than only a chuff-chuff-chuffing sound. Much worse. Thomas Lynch said:  "So the ridiculous and the sublime—they're neighbors. If you're playing in the end of the pool where really bad shit can happen, then really funny shit can happen, too." So... Ah... When does the funny stuff start?

Happy Bastille Day Still

Ruther Glen at another Flying-J caravanserai. 200 and some dollar oil change and 200 and some miles north of yesterday. Perhaps the most interesting event was the finding that a zerk had gone missing from from the right rear slack adjuster. How it unscrewed itself remains a mystery but at least it was an easy fix in a day that would test Job's patience. It really doesn't matter-It really doesn't matter...

Whatever has gone wrong in the motor is manifest most worst by the fact that fuel is getting into the crankcase and diluting the motor's lubricating oil. Consequently, as the day and the miles wear on the oil pressure drops. So who needs an odometer? (Did I tell you the odo broke a couple of weeks back?) I just watch the oil pressure now and the lower it goes the more miles I've gone. Ei8ht hundred or so miles to home port garage in Center Conway NH. Every couple hundred miles or so I drain off two gallons of fuel/oil mix and add a gallon of oil to the motor. Then I put the fuel/oil mix back in the fuel tank for another chance to burn.

2009vii16 Thursday in Halifax

Along the Susquehanna River—which a local ham radio operator tells me means "sparkling waters"—is this little town which calls itself a borough, founded in 1794; next to the Welcome to Halifax sign is "No buses over 5 ton permitted on local streets" No matter; the local streets leading to Denali's house are too twisty and hilly anyhow. There are no sidewalks on the streets and no banister on the stairway of her house. But there is a nice pizza place on the corner and the post office is actually located in town where people live. The Cat is Drag'd Inn behind a row of dumpsters in the local recycling transfer and Park-N-Ride station, next to a playground with a sandbox. In the river is an island named Lingle Island. On another little AT day hike Denali said she'd hike the trail end to end with me when she is 13. I've got three years to get in shape and find my Limmers.


My ass is wide from sitting flat upon the chair,
My lungs collapse from lack of cold clean mountain air,
Fingers worn unto the calloused bone typing
Words wheezed out through swollen bloodied lips.
My Limmers sit in corner by the door
Waxed ready for a walk or hike but
Tread uncut by cinders of Antarctic shore.
To the doctor I have been to see
If he has a serum that might cure this malady.
But, lo! a box of pens he gives to me,
Says take one of these each day and write
Until the ink runs out of sight
And if when all the pens are gone
You still are at no loss for words
Come back and I will give you one box more.
There is no cure for illness such as yours
For once the cap is off the muse is loose.
A kindly audience is now your quest;
A place with equal treatment for your worst
Whilst paying room and board for all your best.

Halifax Ferry
Six miles upstream, where u.s.209 comes in from Kingston New York, is located the oldest operating ferry—of its kind—in the United States. Sternwheel paddles. Wooden deck about large enough for three small pickups. The ferry was operating as early as 1825 and poled across the mile wide river until 1873. In the 1920's a small gasoline motor replaced the steam engine and the paddle wheels were moved from the sides to the stern.

2009vii18, Another No Camping Town

Don't bother stopping at the Wal-Mart in Westfall PA, a township which appears on none of my maps, as they don't allow overnight parking. No Overnight Camping they call it on the big signs scattered about the carpark, "by authority of township of Westfall". But just down the street at the Lowe's there are no such signs. According to the Wal-Mart manager it is another of those cases where the local campgrounds are picking on the big bully Wal-Mart for permitting free camping and stealing their business. Unfair competition! We can't have any of THAT!

So, where is this township called Westfall? What are Westfall's bounds? Is the Lowe's where I spent a quiet night in a different town not so easily controlled by whinging campground operators? Or, is it that Wal-Mart, behind the scene, and dispite their generally welcoming overnight parking, does not want campers at this particular store but does not want to take responsibility for it. What's the rest of the storey?

The old Village Diner, at the junction of u.s.6 and i84x11, the old exit 11, between Milford and Matamoras, is still there and serving good meals. Except that the rolls with my meatloaf were a bit stale. I've stopped here on previous occasions and it is nice to see that they are still in the business of feeding travellers along old u.s.6 dispite most of the traffic being siphoned off by i84.

The Eagle Has Landed & The Cat Has Drag'd Inn least as far as Franklin MA. Almost homeport garage, within towing distance if necessary. Kind of strange hearing the Boston accent and dialect on the Ham radio; I suppose it may take a few days to get used to. When the Eagle landed on The Moon the Willshedoit was parked on The Mall, Lester was lost—having an ice cream at the metro police station and watching the affair on TV—whilst the rest of the Scouts in that 1969 Summer Camp Tour were hobnobbing with the press at the Smithsonian Castle. We were just into the first week of the Roadrunner Patrol's month-long road trip to Philmont Scout Ranch and other places in the southwest.

Another case of not putting out my rain gauge at the first drop. Been raining here all day yesterday and still, now, into this morning there are waves of light rain/drizzle. Roads are wet, cat is wet, I am wet from dragging in cat. I have the pilots on in furnace and heater just for effect. Baked a pie this morning more to take the chill off than anything to do with the availability of rhubarb in the backyard garden.
Boy with Dolphin

Acton Action

 I am in Acton, West Acton more precisely, where the action is quite dull for the most part. Or quite a strain depending upon one's point of view. Every day is another Death in Venice. I am parked behind the fire house in a muni-carpark which becomes a Lake Louise with any serious rain. The day I arrived was the day after several inches fell and a boy skated through on rollerblades; the water was up to the soles of his boots, looked like he was walking on the water. Missed a good picture there. Other good pictures not missed were in Worcester. For a while now I have been casually studying the Zeus/Ganymede motif and the way various artists have rendered the archetype of shepherd and god. Zeus is usually represented as an eagle while the shepherd may be anywhere between toddler and youth. Recently it has occurred to me that Zeus may be represented by other animals: dolphin, frog, turtle, and perhaps even man. In Worcester, for instance, there are two examples of this variation on the theme. In Rockport there is another. In London there is a copy of the Boy With Dolphin and in Zuerich is a Boy With Eagle.
Boy with Turtle
Saturday my genealogist friend Dennis led the way to Lowell for a Folk Festival, one of that city's grasping-at-straws attempts to survive the demise of its cloth mills economy. Spent way too much money on food and beer but all in all it was a good diversion.

Sunday was to sit around and write letters in the rain. And fix the truck. A severe clunk emanated from the left front wheel whenever a small bump was encountered on the road. Bouncing on the front bumper could produce the same result. The drive to Lowell and back yesterday was undertaken with no small trepidation after my inspection determined the wheel was not likely to fall off. What I found Sunday morning was a nut missing from the top mounting bracket of the shock absorber. The clunk was every time that stud smashed into the fixture. I've been able to find a nut to hold it together but really should replace the shock. And if I do that then I really have to replace the other front one too. And if I am going to dig in that far I really should pull the wheels and check the bearings...
Boy with Frog
Perhaps it will all hold together enough to get to the garage in Conway; only a few more miles.

August Rushing Inn

Still. Well, I have no reason to believe anything has changed since the last driving a week ago. Great time with my sister Ann-Marie and her family. I've been sitting still with them at Nashua for a week. One sunny day between two rainy ones was just perfect for a yard sale—I took in three dollars for some old CDs—and someone else did all the arranging for that weather so I was not so tired I could not have fun. Ann-Marie's b'day BBQ, she's 49 now, still about twenty years younger than me, and another BBQ with her daughter Jessica and family—I'm really sorry I didn't get to know her kids better a couple of years ago but we had a great time playing Cat's Cradle, wading in the river, climbing trees, and telling storeys about everything to new ears.
49th B'day Yard Sale

Taking a Dump

And a good morning it is here. Half the way through NH and everything came out ok at the Concord Dump Station. (Why do we "take a dump"  but not, usually, "give a shit"?) Now visiting another of my old scoutmaster friends. This guy is recently 75 and can run circles around his grandsons. We went out after lunch yesterday and did four geocaches within a mile or so of his house here in the woods of Bradford. Nice walk. This morning after breky I will move along north and get to home port garage in Conway this afternoon.

Red Hat Day - Concord to Conway

Jim went off in a great flurry of hugs to deliver his MealsOnWheels and I moved The Cat Drag'd Inn out of his lawn, onto the road, and connected the truck for this last leg of our sojourn On The Road.

Arriving in Conway was like coming home. All the familiar old places interspersed with gaudy new things brought on waves of nostalgia intermingled with fits of revulsion. Jim and I had spent hours telling each other storeys of crazy things we'd done in the old days; some of these storeys I've heard and told before; I guess that's the way it is when old timers get together.

At the Conway Truck garage some of the leveling dunnage and one old carpet are still where I left them beside the parts room chimney, the pile of firewood has gone down a bit but the pile of old tyres has grown, yellow and blue paint spots on the tarmac delineate The Cat Drag'd Inn's berth; the garage looks mostly like I'd only left yesterday and here I am back again except that Paul's kids are all three years older.

I suppose it is now time to get this letter posted. The furnace turned itself on this morning as if to mark the change of season—driving to setting. We will no doubt be here for a while.

Statistics for this Summer Camp on The Road: No Campers! In some respects just as well; I got all the license plates my self: All the states but for DelewarE and HawAii. Initial estimate of miles from the navigator = 4026; measured miles = 4232; fuel used = 502.2 @ 2$50 +/-; average mpg = 8.4 (despite the problem with the motor during the last 1400 miles). On the road for 89 days, from 5/8/9 to 8/5/9 (and I really did NOT plan that) which in Julian format is 2009128 to 2009217. Any numerologists want to comment? Added three state HighPoints to my Life List for a total now of 21.

My thanks to all my friends along the Way who helped make this migration a fun adventure. I hope you will all be home for a return engagement. For now we slip into mundane mode whilst it will be my turn to entertain travellers.

And lastly, this just in from our correspondent on the other side of the pond: This Scottish soldier was standing guard outside the castle in Edinburgh and this American lady tourist came up to him and asked him what he wore under his kilt. "Gi me yer han and I'll shew yeh", he said, and before she could back away took her hand and pulled it under his kilt. Pulling away, she said "Oh, it's gruesome." to which he replied "Stick aroon lady, it'll grew some more."

Oops! One more thing before I gotta go... See RunPee! Nothing at all like See Spot run... Be sure to watch the animation in the top of the page. Give it a minute to ah... fill up.

Be Well, Do Good, and Please Write.

Love, ajo

p.s. Anyone looking for adventure: Please Write.

front page trailerI do not know what I may appear to the world; but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the seashore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
Sir Isaac Newton

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Copyright © 2009, A.J.Oxton, The Cat Drag'd Inn , Tonopah AridZona 85354-0313.