Here’s mile Marker 200—Stay Tuned!
We are planning a special surprise to celebrate sludgo’s 200th installment of Mile Markers. Because of this, publication is delayed by one week—you’ll see #200 next Friday, August 29. Stay tuned!
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What to Know About sludgo’s Mile Markers: Mile 214
It was almost three in the morning and even though I was exhausted from being up late studying for midterms, I was wide awake. Climbed into bed anyway and as I did heard my new downstairs neighbor just getting home. A burly bearded bear of a dude, I hadn’t met him personally yet but knew from scuttlebutt around the apartment he worked swing-shifts for the railroad and drove that clanky never-been-washed Plymouth Duster parked in the end garage. I also knew he liked Springsteen’s “Born to Run.” Loved it even. Not the album. Just the song. Was easy to figure out because in the week since he’d moved in every morning when he got home from work he’d play it on his stereo. Loudly. So loudly that the pictures on my walls would buzz and rattle. And that morning was no different. There was some muffled thumping and banging around downstairs then a brief pause before I heard the ‘pop’ of a needle dropping into a groove and the all-too-familiar opening chords of the Boss’s masterpiece began thundering up through my floor. Groan.
Here’s sludgo’s Mile Markers: Mile 220
This is Part Two of a three-part series. To read Part One, click this link. Part Three is linked at the end of this piece.
My flight to Phoenix got in on time. Wasn’t as bad as most. My seatmate was a chatty blonde eighteen-year-old with big blinky blue eyes who cheerily introduced herself when I first sat down. Saw me glance at her name tag and explained she was on her way to Lubbock, Texas, to attend missionary training school. I asked if she’d ever been to Lubbock before and she shook her head sweetly. I said I had and found it to be a pretty cool town. Told her it was Buddy Holly’s birthplace and she crinkled her nose and said she didn’t know who that was. I laughed then quickly sang a few choruses of his more famous tunes—“Peggy Sue,” “That’ll Be the Day,” “Oh Boy”—but only got a goofy grin out of her. No matter. I spent the next two hours listening to her talk about how wonderful her life had been thus far and how excited she was about all the terrific plans she had for her future. I smiled wistfully all the while, remembering what it was like when I had more days in front of me than behind me, back when I was giddily optimistic and ever-excited for tomorrow, constantly wishing it’d hurry up and get here. Then, just like that, it had.A Look at sludgo’s Mile Markers: Mile 221
This is Part Three of a three-part series. Click the links to read Part One, and Part Two.
It was a warm and sunny June morning and I’d been home about a week and a half. I was out in the garage thinking I should take advantage of the weather and give Mom’s RAV4 a good wash because it needed it. Had gotten dusty sitting in front of the McBungalow since I got back and was still grimy and buggy from the trip, but just as I was getting motivated my phone rang. Saw it was the eldest so I picked up. Knew immediately by his voice that something was brewing. He pretended-normal for a minute, asking me all the usuals. How I was. What I’d been up to. If the dogs were okay. And I answered him with all the usuals. Fine. Not much. Yup. Then he paused and cleared his throat. Said he’d just gotten off a phone call from Grandma—the Beehive—and needed to talk to me about a couple things. So I walked over to my workbench and sat down on my shop stool. “Okeydoke, kiddo. Shoot.”sludgo’s Mile Markers—Mile 223 You Should Know
This last Saturday evening I met my youngest at the rib place over by the mall. We’ve made it a regular date ever since he moved out of the McBungalow however many years ago. I enjoy seeing him and think he enjoys seeing his dear ol’ dad, but I know full well that in light of his instant-ramen-level cooking skills what he likely enjoys most is having a decent meal once a week, especially if I’m springing for it. No matter. I don’t mind. It’s become a highlight of my week. I always buy a couple of scratch-off tickets for us—the five dollar kind—and we sit in our favorite booth scratching away, hoping to win big bucks as we chat about this and that and nosh on our racks of baby backs and stacks of sweet Vidalia beer-battered onion rings before washing everything down with a Long Island iced tea for me and a Dr. Pepper for the kiddo. It’s a good time. Like I said, a highlight of my week.
sludgo’s Mile Markers: Mile 224 You Should Know
A week ago I was in the TT and rolled up next to a biker sitting at a stoplight. Three in the afternoon and hotter than blazes here in mid-August southeast Idaho. He was riding solo on a late-model Fat Boy—black on black. Was wearing what Hog riders all seem to wear: an unbuttoned leather vest over a tattered black t-shirt, leather chaps over worn and torn black jeans and a set of scuffed and scarred steel-toed boots. No helmet, of course, just a do-rag, but I saw a beanie-cap strapped to his rear pillion rack—in case he had to go to Oregon, I supposed. His face was mostly hidden by a bristly salt-and-pepper grandpa beard and his eyes were shielded by mirrored wrap-around Terminator shades. His skin looked thick and weathered and was deeply tanned, so deep it took a moment for me to see his arms were slathered shoulder-to-wrist with an ornate selection of tattoos. Flames and skulls and dragons and tombstones inscribed with initials and dates and symbols I didn’t recognize. He noticed me noticing him and gave me a big tobacco-stained snaggle-toothed grin then flashed me the peace sign. I flashed him one back and the light went green and he twisted the throttle and dropped the clutch and roared off to parts unknown. And as I watched him disappear into the shimmering horizon, somewhere inside my head Steppenwolf suddenly started to play.
sludgo Rides Shotgun with Quartermaster007 You Should Know
It was a few months ago that I first connected with @Quartermaster007, builder of pitch-perfect Bond DB5 replicas, about being the fourth subject of the “Riding Shotgun” series. He said he was flattered and willing, but was leaving for Asia imminently and would get back to me in the spring. So imagine my delight when I recently heard from him letting me know he currently had some availability. We did the Zoom thing, and to my surprise, he looked younger than I’d expected (these days everyone is looking younger than I’d expected). Very well-spoken and a terrific storyteller, the Q-man was as engaging of an interviewee as I could have hoped for and was full of surprises, like his love for first-gen Celicas and his successes in motorcycle racing and film production—all worthy of telling in far more detail than I’m able to provide here. Suffice it to say: I hope the highlights I’m about to present reflect a fascinating life that’s been led by a fascinating individual. So buckle up all you wannabe double-‘0’s. It’s time to ride shotgun with Quartermaster007.
-sludgo
