several years ago i was sitting in an old haunt in Spokane, Washington. I’d had one of those days off that I started drinking at happy hour and stayed in to see people. At about 9pm ish a red white and blue RV pulled up swallowing the street view i had been enjoying a smidge. It eclipsed everything, almost took all the light out of bar. The door opened and out stumbled a man i knew as the usual end of the bar guy, an old drunkard i sometimes talked to. “who’s place is that?” i asked. “that is evel knievel”. I want to go in there. “I;m sure he’ll let you in.“ my friend walked me in and there was this EK, nothing as i wanted to see, no super suit, barely upright in a styling roving planet, not evel knievel I knew. He was doitn hsoe little rascal commercials now. Inside was amazing, there were mirrors everywhere and a large etchign of him on a motorcycle. EK sat in a stately lazyboy and said hello. I said hello back. In real life I left shortly after that, drunk off this random event in a glorious Man Town on wheels, but I’d like to pretend he told the driver to move, and we drank together driving around the blocks of downtown Spokane.
i was speechless.
I have wanted a home like that ever since.
