Hunkered Down in our Hacienda Hideout
Where does the rolling Mustang come to a rest? Most of our posted photos are in the field, off the road or on the move. One must wonder. Batman has a cave in which to store his Batmobile and a great mansion in which to read his newspaper. We seem to deserve a nice little hacienda hideout, a bit this side of Bruce Wayne, but comfortable and functional.
We have a great view of the waterfront from our private perch. In that comfy white chair we spend hours in reflective repose. We snatched that table from the set where a Corona ad was being shot. We keep the same such bottles on it so the table will feel comfortable in captivity. Just over our chair can be seen our trophy Blue Marlin nearly half the length of the car and almost as blue. When the urge to roll strikes us we leap from the chair, bounce off the red awning and land gracefully on the Mustang's trunk. We're not as good as J.T. Hooker in "The Big Chill," but then we're not on TV.
Where exactly is this place? Well, it's nowhere that Map Quest can find us and no amount of Googling will yield our coordinates. It's not that we're anti social, but we'd just as soon not have any Amway sales callers or Jehovah's Witnesses knocking on our door.
posted by Windviel at 1:53 AM
2 Comments:
Okay, I dont want to try to pin you down, and I'm sure that I won't, but is it somewhere between St. Simons Isl. and Key West ? That's not exactly a pinpoint. The terra cotta roof looks more like south Florida.
- FW
Ah, good to hear from you. We chose this little hacienda because it reminded us of a childhood hideaway where young boys smoked cigarettes, read pictorial magazines and mused over Pahoo's Elixir. We can use this for our Christmas card and no one is likely to find us. It was chosen specifically for its misleading appearance. Your estimated range is very good as you considered the materials and design. This was our intention.
He's more than a clue: 33°N, 79°W.
We are a stone's throw from a row of docks. With no more than a .22 Long (the bastard round) you could put a clean hole in the rusty roof of Cathou's dock house. Many years ago he harvested sturgeon caviar in his dock house which was then piled into heaps upon unwashed plywood counters.
Bernard Baruch would send a man down from his hideaway to Cathou's to buy up the stuff in bulk which he then served to his guests who were often some of the most significant people of second half of the twentieth century. As the world becomes a stranger place, a hideaway seems a sound investment. But, I'd stock it with something better than the .22 long.
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