I Am Tired
For those wondering where my weekly blog posts went, they journeyed down to San Lorenzo, New Mexico and then back again to the good old Northwest and car-clogged Seattle. Normally my computer travels with me but this time I had it in the shop getting a good cleaning, wiping out those troublesome computer viruses. One plus is that I didn't have to worry about some fool stealing the computer, allowing me some helpful peace-of-mind, not having to carry the computer on my back whenever I exited my car.
More or less I did a big circle, taking me to eastern Washington and the Quincy Lakes, then down into eastern Oregon through John Day country, and from there to the NE corner of California and Surprise Valley Hot Springs for two nights just outside of Cedarville. Biggest excitement of that leg of the trip was a visit from a small rattlesnake to my camp in the Quincy Lakes Game Range. A handful of dirt sent the reptile on its way but about an hour later, while walking on a trail in the backcountry, I came across yet another coiled rattler on a bushy trail, telling me detouring the best option. Also during my two days there I had the pleasure, on two separate occasions, of crossing paths with two desert marmots, wooly creatures with longish black tails. In general on this road trip I came across more wildlife than usually expected, thrilled to encounter three pronghorn antelope prancing in eastern Oregon's Hart Mountain Pronghorn Refuge. On my last night, camping at a very quiet Devil's Flat campground in Oregon's National Umpqua National Forest, a wild turkey came to visit, and in my birding history, a rare sighting in these western United States.
Leaving Surprise Valley, I took the road leading south out of Cedarville into a desolate, lonely section of northern Nevada, an area beautifully tinted green after recent rainfalls. My routing took me to what is essentially the east side of Death Valley, and to my delight, just outside of Beatty, Nevada, were three elusive wild burros calmly grazing upon high desert grass. Sightings of those pesky beasts can be rare, making it a big surprise for the big eared trio to be in such plain view. Normally, if you get even within a mile of a burro, you should consider yourself very lucky. They don't like humans, making no secret of their braying distain.
Once in Arizona, I took the Route 180 turnoff south out of Holbrook, a road taking me down into New Mexico, eventually leading to Silver City, and then 24 miles further east to that speck of a town called San Lorenzo. After communing nearly four days with my friend, Marty Campbell, I headed back up Route 180, heading east on I-40 where I eventually slept on the side of the road in the desert a few miles outside of Needles, California. From there I switched over to westbound Route 58 out of Barstow, stopping to visit my sister's JoAnne's gravesite in Tehachapi, where her friend Kathleen greeted me. Kathleen was a big help during JoAnne's final months. Her assistance was greatly appreciated.
After Tehachapi, I made my way to northbound I-5, heading for my next stop, Mercey Hot Springs, 62964 Little Panoche Road, Firebaugh, CA, 209-826-3388, www.merceyhotsprings.com, where I camped for the night. Camping, including total access to the hot tubs and swimming pool, is $75.00 per night. I was fortunate to have been assigned campsite E4, a woodsy shaded site serenaded by local birds including owls. The hot springs is adjacent to an over 6 mile long trail taking you to dinosaur fossil sites. And heading northwest a few miles takes you to Pinnacles National Park, a place I visited twice in the early 1980s. If you like crawling in and around rocks, Pinnaces is the place for you.
Leaving the hot springs, I returned to I-5 and headed north to Williams and State Route 20, taking me through Clear Lake and onto northbound Highway 101, my destination being Arcata and "she-who-can't-be-named." Four days there and after various nature outings, I was off again north to where I encountered the turkey and later bad, old Seattle. In case you are looking for a good place to camp in that part of southern Oregon, take exit 88 off of I-5 and proceed 18 miles east on Cow Creek Road. If requiring something for breakfast, look for a sign advertising organic chicken eggs for $3.00 a dozen. Very farm fresh, and delicious.
Stopping in Tacoma for lunch, I met up with my friend Chris at our local favorite, the VK Viet Kitchen Vietnamese restaurant located at 758 S. 38th Street. A very good place to eat. I recommend P-12, the Seafood soup, something I always have, requesting vegetarian broth replacing the usual.
Once back in Seattle it was traffic, traffic, traffic, back to where I don't want to particularly be, where the turkeys are human and the rattlesnakes walk upright shaking their rattles. No thanks!
Historical Betrayal: Lloyd George and Ed Murray
Recently, while looking online, I found an October 28th, 2013 Seattle Weekly article quoting me about the upcoming local election, saying that I endorsed both Ed Murray for mayor and Kshama Sawant for the city council. My reasoning was based upon their pro-taxi statements, with Murray promising to put an end to Uber's nonsense. As we all know now, both Murray and Sawant were less than honest, their voiced support vanishing upon their election.
This kind of betrayal is not nice, making me think of the then British Prime Minister Lloyd George's promise back in 1914 to grant India Dominion status or complete independence in response to Mahatma Gandhi's tactic support for Britain's war effort against Germany. Once victory over Germany was achieved, England reneged on that pledge, instead enacting legislation denying India the liberties it sought, suspending all basic civil rights for all Indians in their own country. All of this was made worse by the April 13th, 1919 Amritsar massacre, four hundred Indian men, women and children killed by British soldiers.
Now bringing us back to Seattle and 2014, while yes, no actual blood was shed, it is true that Ed Murray murdered Seattle's taxi industry. That he was later forced to resign his office was no saving grace. The deed was done. Taxi in Seattle, for all useful purposes, was dead and buried.
Dennis Roberts in Print
Taxi buddy Rick, former owner of Red Top Taxi, sent me this autobiographical story of real taxi as experienced by that late Seattle taxi Ikon, Dennis Roberts, something well representing a bygone taxi era, at least in Seattle, a time and place assigned to memory, never to return. I wouldn't call Dennis a great singer but once upon the King Street train cab stand, he rang out a tolerable version of that year 1960 C&W hit by Johnny Horton, "North to Alaska." As many would say, Dennis was "one-of-a kind," and taking that further, "one-of-a-taxi-kind." There was certainly no one else like him driving cab, an unique cabbie with an unique approach to living. Good for him.
And PS: Sorry about the broken sentences, the computer biting me again.
Tuneful Taxi by Dennis Roberts (2004)
The call came in early on a Monday morning.
Seattle Yellow Cab's central dispatcher snapped, "I have this all job here, Dennis. They have papers to be picked up from the court house, go get signatures, that kind of thing. Want it?"
"Sure," I replied. "Work is work."
"Okay, see the lady at Wall Street Brokers. Corner of Fifth and Wall Street."
It was a nice uptown address. When I walked into the office, I instantly recognized the look on their faces.
I'll admit I'm a burly guy, and some people do think I look like a cross between Santa Claus and biker-bar regular. And its true that people stare at my shoulder-length hair and Indiana Jones hat. But I win them over.
"Hi!" I said brightly. "I'm Dennis Roberts, the singing taxi driver. I'm here to pick up those papers at the court house for you."
The lady introduced herself as Lorelei Stevens, President of Wall Street Brokers. She did a pretty good job of not staring while she explained her business---buying seller-financed notes. I would be her courier for some very important deals today.
Then she said I looked like a character actor in the movies.
"Good guess," I said. I am a character actor. Ever see the television series "Northern Exposure?"
"Sure," she said.
"I was in several episodes. Been in others, too. And I've been a professional Santa Claus during Christmas season for years."
That went over well. I could see that Lorelei had decided I was okay for the job, so I asked about the tasks of the day, where I had to go, what to get, who to see.
"Before we do that, " she said, "are you really a singing cab driver?"
"Absolutely."
"Sing me a song, then."
I gave her my best Elvis impression with his rendition of Jingle Bells. The whole office applauded when I was done.
Then Lorelei mapped out the day's work.
And what a day's work it was. First I drove to the municipal courthouse, got certified copies of several judgements Lorelei needed, plus tapes of important testimony.
Then I dropped them off at a lawyer's office and picked up some others, then took them to Lorelei.
Then came the surprise. Lorelei told me the next stop was a nearby town up north where I would go to the homes of two ladies, first Glenda and then Katie, who were both selling notes to Wall Street Brokers. They were elderly and neither could get out of their house for business. Lorelei explained that Glenda's note was a first lien and Katie's a second lien, and told me what I needed to do with each.
So, I threaded my way through heavy traffic to Glenda's house and knocked on the door with her papers---and her check---in my hands. She was very cordial and said Lorelei had called and told her about me. She invited me in and to my delight she played the piano for me. Then she asked me to sing her a song, and accompanied me in Winter Wonderland.
When the music died away, Glenda thanked me for the song and turned to the business papers.
"Well, everything looks in order," she said.
Glenda then whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "You know, Dennis, I was always taught never to trust anyone when it came to money. So I have a special favor to ask."
"What's that?" I wanted to know.
"Take me to the bank so I can make sure Wall Street Brokers' check is good."
I kept from laughing out loud, and said, "Sure. We have to go there anyway to get the papers notarized, remember? Come on. Let me help you to the cab."
At the bank we laid all the papers out on a counter. "What do I need to sign?" Glenda asked.
I had all the details fresh in mind---being a cabbie gives you a good memory for details like street names and routes to avoid. Street smarts. So I showed her the exact pages where her signature was required.
When she skipped one, I politely turned the page back and said, "This one, too, please."
When all the signatures were done I made sure that all the papers were notarized by a bank official, just as Lorelei had instructed. I gave Glenda her cashier's check. She made sure it was good at the teller's cage, and put it in the back.
Then, as we started back to the cab, Glenda said, "Dennis, let me do something for you. There's a hamburger stand across the street. Let me buy you a burger. It's the least I can do for you for your kindness."
That was touching, I thought, so we went over and order burgers. I got a deluxe, the works. Glenda got a bare-bones burger and bun, no frills. I felt a little guilty but ate mine with gusto.
When I dropped her back at hime, Glenda wanted me to sing for her some more but I told her I had another stop to make before the day was done.
This one was to Katie O'Brien's. She's very old. Lorelei had called and told her the singing cab driver would be there, so she was expecting me. Her grown children lived across the street, and I was supposed to have them come over to have one of them notarize the papers. So with a house full of people, I sang When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.
Katie signed all the papers and I gave her the money in a cashiers check. The O'Brien's wanted me to stay and sing some more, but i had to rush to the title insurance company to drop off the papers. It was a race against time.
When I got there, they sent me to the wrong office. When I finally got to the right desk, it was just in the nick of time.
I got back to Wall Street Brokers with copies of everything, all the papers signed in the right places.
"Well, you did everything perfectly," exclaimed Lorelei. "You're good at this."
"Yep," I said, smiling.
We'd both had a lot of fun that day.
That was three months ago.
Since then I've been Lorelei's Wall Street Brokers courier many times. She took a special interest in me, talked me into getting a notary license so I can do the work myself.
Every time I see Lorelei, she gives me a personal five-minute lesson about buying notes. I'm learning a lot. I may do some note buying myself one day.
Hey, gotta go. The dispatcher just called me in with another Wall Street Brokers job.
The End
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Yes, "personals," as they are called in the cab business, can be quite lucrative. A few years back, I had one passenger providing me $2,200 a month for many months. I finally helped her get signed up with Hopelink, saving her a small fortune.
Dennis Roberts died from COVID-17 in April 2020. I took responsibility for his cremation and still have his ashes waiting for burial. Sometime this year I hope to drive to Montana and bury them next to his parents. It is the least I can do.
