vacation decals
Jason sent me this cool website on decalcomania..check it out
www.creativepro.com/article/heavy-metal-madness-decalcoma...
Uploaded by Water Tower Pisan on 26 Jun
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Keep on Drumming
Keep on Drumming
Restaurant in the Hotel President, Kansas City.
www.drumroomkc.com/menu.html
Restaurant in the Hotel President, Kansas City.
www.drumroomkc.com/menu.html
Friday, October 9, 2009
MY NAVY FRIEND, CHARLES, on the beach at Venice, California
MEMORIES OF A WILD HORSE AND SOME SPANISH MODELS...By Robert L. Huffstutter
Browsing through my photostream, seeing this photo of my friend, Chuck, reminded me of the times a few of us Navy guys spent in Ensenada in 1960 and early 1961. One of our favorite activities down south of the border was riding horses on the beach. After a night of celebrating at the Plaza, we would meander down toward the shore around noon on Saturdays. There was alway an enterprising young man or an elderly gentleman with a small herd of horses ready for riding by those bold enough to try their efforts at galloping through the surf. The rental was about a dollar per horse for a few hours. The horses were not the tamest and as fate would have it, I chanced to mount a strange -eyed white and speckled horse one Saturday that gave me the ride of my life. As we prepared for our casual ride a few miles south, watching out for rocks and boulders, drinking wine from leather bags, laughing, telling jokes, trying our Spanish, my mount must have tired of Yanque b.s and picked up pace. Not an equestrian type, I was a bit concerned and called a quick whoa, then pleaded for a pronto alto, but to no avail. The man or lad in charge picked up the gait and was getting a faceful of sand as he strove to come to my rescue. Hunkered down and certain it was the end, the handler figured out a move that I am sure he had been forced to make on previous jaunts; he drove his steed to full speed and once he was about a hundred yards in advance, he reversed and met us headlong. It looked like a horse to horse head-on collision, but his knowledge saved the day. His horse must have been the '' BOSS HORSE' because the action stopped abruptly. ''Sorry, senor, '' he apologized and offered me my dollars back. I refused and added another dollar to his hand, shook his hand and sat down on a boulder for an hour contemplating the outline of the sleeply village north of where the wild ride ended. My amigos had quite a laugh and commenced to give me lessons on where and what I must have done to spook my mount. I took the lessons with a grain of sand and vowed the next time I would ride a wild horse would be sometime far in the future. It was a serene and peaceful walk back to the Plaza where I joined my buddies at the bar, engaged in Spanish lessons with some delightful looking Spanish models on a photo shoot. The weekend ended with diverse and fond memories. We never did see the photographer in charge of the model shoot.
Browsing through my photostream, seeing this photo of my friend, Chuck, reminded me of the times a few of us Navy guys spent in Ensenada in 1960 and early 1961. One of our favorite activities down south of the border was riding horses on the beach. After a night of celebrating at the Plaza, we would meander down toward the shore around noon on Saturdays. There was alway an enterprising young man or an elderly gentleman with a small herd of horses ready for riding by those bold enough to try their efforts at galloping through the surf. The rental was about a dollar per horse for a few hours. The horses were not the tamest and as fate would have it, I chanced to mount a strange -eyed white and speckled horse one Saturday that gave me the ride of my life. As we prepared for our casual ride a few miles south, watching out for rocks and boulders, drinking wine from leather bags, laughing, telling jokes, trying our Spanish, my mount must have tired of Yanque b.s and picked up pace. Not an equestrian type, I was a bit concerned and called a quick whoa, then pleaded for a pronto alto, but to no avail. The man or lad in charge picked up the gait and was getting a faceful of sand as he strove to come to my rescue. Hunkered down and certain it was the end, the handler figured out a move that I am sure he had been forced to make on previous jaunts; he drove his steed to full speed and once he was about a hundred yards in advance, he reversed and met us headlong. It looked like a horse to horse head-on collision, but his knowledge saved the day. His horse must have been the '' BOSS HORSE' because the action stopped abruptly. ''Sorry, senor, '' he apologized and offered me my dollars back. I refused and added another dollar to his hand, shook his hand and sat down on a boulder for an hour contemplating the outline of the sleeply village north of where the wild ride ended. My amigos had quite a laugh and commenced to give me lessons on where and what I must have done to spook my mount. I took the lessons with a grain of sand and vowed the next time I would ride a wild horse would be sometime far in the future. It was a serene and peaceful walk back to the Plaza where I joined my buddies at the bar, engaged in Spanish lessons with some delightful looking Spanish models on a photo shoot. The weekend ended with diverse and fond memories. We never did see the photographer in charge of the model shoot.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
1950 Plymouth DeLuxe Sedan
1950 Plymouth DeLuxe Sedan
At the All Mopar car show at the Pierce County Fair Grounds.
Uploaded by jay el on 5 Nov 08
PLYMOUTH FASTBACK 2 DR (FLATHEAD 6)...and it was one fast Plymouth. Back in the late 50s, dragstrips were places where we met on Friday nights to see if the milling of our heads had been done just right. I knew mine had been done right when I beat a 49 Ford v8 Crown Vic by 4 lengths in the quarter mile. I thank it might have been a good shifting on my part, but my Plymouth gained a mean reputation from thereon. Editor
At the All Mopar car show at the Pierce County Fair Grounds.
Uploaded by jay el on 5 Nov 08
PLYMOUTH FASTBACK 2 DR (FLATHEAD 6)...and it was one fast Plymouth. Back in the late 50s, dragstrips were places where we met on Friday nights to see if the milling of our heads had been done just right. I knew mine had been done right when I beat a 49 Ford v8 Crown Vic by 4 lengths in the quarter mile. I thank it might have been a good shifting on my part, but my Plymouth gained a mean reputation from thereon. Editor
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Old-Beechcraft-D-18S--img188
Old-Beechcraft-D-18S--img188
Landing at Hammer Field in Fresno, California, in 1962. This plane first came out in 1937 at the D-18 a few years after the famous Lockheed Electra it mimics. It was a money maker for Beech Aircraft so they wisely updated it and re-introduced it as the D-18S in October 1945.
Uploaded by Lance & Cromwell on 1 Mar
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One of the most dangerous flight I was on was in this old faithful. Had taken off from old NAS OLATHE in summer of 61 and ran into red dust storm somewhere over N. Mexico. Zero visibility, no instrument landings capabilities, just red dust. Could feel it in our throats and respitory systems. Finally eased it down into slight visibility and landed in arid field. End of a perfect connection to San Diego. 24 hours later, arrived via Greyhound in San Diego. It was quite a fun experience for a youth, fodder for lots of hours at the club. Editor
Landing at Hammer Field in Fresno, California, in 1962. This plane first came out in 1937 at the D-18 a few years after the famous Lockheed Electra it mimics. It was a money maker for Beech Aircraft so they wisely updated it and re-introduced it as the D-18S in October 1945.
Uploaded by Lance & Cromwell on 1 Mar
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One of the most dangerous flight I was on was in this old faithful. Had taken off from old NAS OLATHE in summer of 61 and ran into red dust storm somewhere over N. Mexico. Zero visibility, no instrument landings capabilities, just red dust. Could feel it in our throats and respitory systems. Finally eased it down into slight visibility and landed in arid field. End of a perfect connection to San Diego. 24 hours later, arrived via Greyhound in San Diego. It was quite a fun experience for a youth, fodder for lots of hours at the club. Editor
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