Friday, July 19, 2013


Traveling around on motorcycles, one of the things you have to frequently do is stop for gas. At the newly resurrected Chevron in Cantwell the other day the tourist was having difficulty with the gas pump. She looked at me and with a heavy German accent she asked “Zip Code?”

Not every country on the planet has a zip code but almost every gas pump in amerika wants yours if you use a credit card. Wouldn’t it be more global, challenging and safer if you had to input the zip code of the gas station?  The thief that lifted your credit card while you are standing your ground, and  fumbling for your gun, would never be able to figure out that to use your card at a gas pump they would need the zip code of the station, and even if they did the cops could just wait for the thieves at the Post  Office,  and nab them as they drove by, staring at the building for a glimpse of 99729.

Wild germanium along the trail to Rabbit Lake
Using a 18 -55 mm lens and a extension tube. With a tripod and no wind the detail gets even better. This was a lucky shot, taken lying on the ground holding my breath.

I have been looking for things in nature that do not belong in nature. I came across this at a picnic the other day.
Along the Mighty Matanuska River
Rusty old oil drums are everywhere in Alaska, but a bowling ball that is at least 100 miles from the nearest alley, makes you wonder how it got there.

What could be better on a summer day, than a girl, a gun, and a beer. Enjoy.

From the November 1958 Gourmet Magazine


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