One Sweet Ride With Messages and One That’s Just Sweet


Spotted this car at the East Palo Alto 7/11. Noticed lots of signs attached.


I started photographing it, and the owner came out.


He seemed like a normal guy. ‘I know it looks crazy’, he said.


He launched into an explanation that partly made sense. It had to do with the signals your brain sends to your mouth muscles when anticipating speech. Then it kind of took a left when he said the F.B.I. was able to remotely read these signals.


Silly man. Everyone knows the C.I.A. handles that sort of thing.
And now for something completely different.


Spotted this in Pacific Heights, near the French Consulates and several billionaire’s houses. Cops and maybe Secret Service guys were milling about. Something important was happening, that we will probably never know. Too bad we couldn’t read the signals their brains were sending to their mouth muscles.

A Sunday Story and 4 Sweet Rides

Sunday morning we caught a bus, on our way to the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival. At the very back of the bus a man was talking very loudly, to himself, or to someone who wasn’t actually there. Or maybe he was just addressing the universe in general. Not an uncommon phenomenon in the city. He was neatly dressed, shoes shined, probably in his 40s. As the ride went on I could pick out a few words here and there- Jesus, Moses, the Phillipines, the Pope, Palestine, Israel, Mother Theresa. There was something enjoyable about it, unlike most crazy people yelling on buses. He spoke with some urgency, but not anger. Maybe because it was sunday morning and this was the closest thing to a sermon I’d heard since I was a child. After a couple miles he got off and went on his way. I wish I could somehow pierce his mental illness enough to thank him for his words.

On to the rides: