A few times I’ve been tempted to write about
a fabulous ‘regular’ day in Fresburg. Not some outrageous event,
or some plan to bring Bass Pro to us via an explosion of rock n’ roll
talent and monorail invention--just a regular day that was good.

Today I’m doing it.

I was busy through Rogue Festival Time. I spent a lot of time with my
daughter. It was good. She was my co-conspirator. She’s a great kid.
I loved it.

But I have a son too. Sooooo, we planned on using this Spring Break day
to hang out with each other. We went to the post office on Griffith to
mail in his Green Day shoes that were too small. We went to Scissor Hands
on Shaw and Maroa to get his hair cut for Easter----great folks, but he
thinks they cut it too short----it’s always hard for a young (or old) man
to communicate exactly how he wants his hair cut.

THEN, it was off for classic fun. Two full games and a cheeseburger at
Cedar Lanes. Yeah! This place rules. If I had a mustache and an El Camino,
I’da been the coolest cat here in 1974. (instead I had a Huffy bicycle and
clothes from Sears at the time.). There’s even people with that mustache on the walls,
and you can tell from their photographs that they had just parked their El Caminos or
GTOs in the parking lot.
This place DOES rule.
I almost bowled the best game of my life, but my arm got tired. I looked and looked,
but it wasn’t until the third frame that I found a sissy ball light enough for me (in nice
bright colors too!).

THEN, since my son is obsessed with drums lately, we headed off to see Ted at SoundStage and Dana at Bentley’s and then even went to Guitar Center (shhhh, it’s a chain) --but it got a bit loud there, so I ran across the street to visit my pal
at Whitie’s Pet Store (who was eating at DiCicco’s down the sidewalk--who
I interrupted during his lunch time and visited anyway).
When I jammed across Blackstone (fully a quarter mile away from any approaching
traffic who’d just left the turning light at Barstow) there was one quickly accelerating
motorcycle. [editor’s note: the speed limit is a paltry 35 mph here]. The dude on the
swift flying motorcycle [turns out he was PD] speaks through his Mr. Microphone:
“Try the crosswalk next time.” I wanted to broadcast back to him “Try going the
SPEED LIMIT next time.”

It was a great day . And what a fantastic Spring we are having , eh? And me and my son
listened to Abbey Road on the way home, and he looked through catalogues of drum
equipment that neither he nor I can afford right now.

But heck YEAH, it was a nice, no GREAT day.