Adventures in Skipland

"The fire congealed the lights!" Skip says excitedly. He squats and runs his hands lovingly over each of the tail lights. Skip is once again leaving me his old beat up Toyota. This time he's expecting to be gone 6 months. I'm about to drive him to LAX. The pick up sits on the raod where Skip had just stopped, not pulling over, unworried, it is not a main road or anything. Skip reaches into the truck bed, grabs some rumpled trousers, drops his shorts and slips into the dark pants. I wander around his truck, surveying the damage on top of damage. Headlights are sort of bowlegged, front bumper has bent inward and there's brand new body damage near the passenger door.

Skip wants me to drive and I oblige. After a few opening pleasantries, he relates the story of his car crash last month up in Oregon. There was no damage to his forgiving victim's v and the cop decided to not give Skip a tick.

"I'm only gonna be in NY for 2 weeks then I'm flying to Nicaragua." He's all revved up for South America. His client has hundreds of acres including a vocanic lake. "You should come down and bring your Kitewing."

"Yeah, I can wing surf. I'm stilling sketching out the specs for the board... Nicaragua will be cool!"

"Yes, this project has peaked my interest. We are very focussed & funding will not be an issue."

Skip & the ocean are on my right. "Feels a little squirrley. Did you check the tire pressure?"

"No."

We arrive 2 hours early anyway. Skip is in no hurry as he goes thru and organize what can only be described as debris mixed with a dirty t-shirt. He's not bringing vey much. We talk for a good 10 minutes uninterrupted. During our conversation, I can see an airport security guard nervously glancing up at us. She was too nervous to approach. Finally, Skip is ready to enter the sprawling complex and we bid farewell.

I stopped at one of the first gas stations, after leaving plane world, and added about 10 pounds of air pressure to each tire. Within 2 days I had a flat in one and replaced it.