Humor – On the road with Jim

The Verdant Slopes of Paso Robles Picture of the Week - Paso Robles, California

Vast vineyard in Paso Robles with rows of grapevines leading up to a tree-covered hill. — Nature’s Golden Arrow: Pointing to Paso Robles’ Treasures – Follow nature’s golden arrow, leading us to the crown jewels of this Paso Robles vineyard.

Thumb-deep in the pages of my trusted wall calendar (see more on calendars below)—a tome that’s seen more flips than a circus acrobat—I’m struck by the revelation that November has tiptoed in. This month, we salute not only the leafy tapestries of autumn but also indulge in the time-honored pursuit of pumpkin plundering. The ultimate spoils? Whisking those grim jack-o’-lanterns into pie perfection! And let’s not forget each stellar pie deserves a vinous virtuoso by its side. This month, our glasses are poised for just that.

Paso Robles beckons us back, teasing with three vineyards yet untouched by the footprints of Queen Anne and yours truly. San Luis Obispo County—our seaside serenade in Cambria—lures us with its labyrinthine backroads, rustic seafood haunts, and the siren call of Paso Robles’ vine-clad hills, a wooded sanctuary just a ten-hour drive away.

The “Pass of the Oaks” isn’t merely another dot on the wine map; it’s a chapter from an 18th-century vintner’s diary. With the Mission San Miguel’s historic tendrils, the grape gospel here has been preached for centuries. In this Edenic enclave, broiling daytime heat waltzes with the cool nocturnal breezes—a climatic duet the grapes practically waltz to solar caresses, coaxing ripeness, nightly whispers preserving zest.

But the tale doesn’t end with the meteorological. The Salinas River, a silent matriarch, cradles Paso in a diverse geological lullaby. It’s a mosaic of terroir, each parcel boasting its own soil story and climatic character. Amidst the hidden theatrics of the fault line beneath the 101 Freeway, a sanctuary for over 40 grape varietals thrives.

While the east side of the freeway is renowned for its sandy soils, giving birth to the robust flavors of well-known labels like Robert Hall and Tobin James, it’s also a chessboard of corporate plays. Giants like Julio and Ernesto have swept through, snapping up vineyards and shuttering public tasting rooms, sealing them away from the thirsty public. It’s a reminder that behind every serene row of vines lies the pulsing heart of business—sometimes nourishing, and sometimes, like a wise game of Monopoly, reshaping the very access to these bottled elixirs.

Our visual offering this week captures the ascending vines off Adelaida Road, cresting in an arboreal amphitheater of Live Oaks. Envision us there: Queen Anne and I, picnic basket in hand, seeking reprieve under those leafy sentinels, feasting simply yet sumptuously, all while the tapestry of Paso unfolds beneath us.

Curious about those precision-planted vineyard rows or the storied slope where Queen Anne played Jill—her hill-tumbling fame secured? Navigate to my website <Jim’s Web> or journey to the Fine Art America Page <FAA Page>. Prepare for our next vineyard chapter—it promises to be a symposium of the senses!

Until then, keep your spirits high and your humor dry;
jw

Techniques: The Subtle Art of Polarizing in Photography

In the sprawling vineyards of Paso Robles, a polarizing filter can be as crucial to a photographer as a corkscrew is to a wine enthusiast. It enhances the lush greens of the leaves and deepens the blues of the sky, much like a fine wine enriches a meal. However, the key to using this tool is subtlety, akin to adding just a pinch of spice to perfect a dish.

While a polarizing filter can dramatically reduce glare and enrich colors, the adage “less is more” applies beautifully here. After finding the point of maximum effect by rotating the filter, dial it back a touch. This ensures the scene retains its natural charm without oversaturated colors appearing and the sky unnaturally dark.

Authenticity: Over-polarization can make your images look artificial, robbing them of their authentic feel—something significant in landscape photography, where realism is often the goal.

Dynamic Range: Maintaining some natural light reflections helps preserve the image’s dynamic range, avoiding the ‘flat’ look that can come from over-polarization.

Viewer Connection: A scene that is too perfect can feel alienating. By keeping the location more natural, your audience can connect more deeply with the image, feeling like they could enter it.

As you stand amidst the rolling hills, let your polarizing filter accentuate the contrasts and textures gently. Allow the sky to retain some lightness and the leaves their natural sheen. This way, when you capture the essence of Paso Robles’ terroir, it’s not just the vibrant colors that speak to the viewer but also the nuanced dance of light and shadow that gives the landscape life.

Think of your polarizer not as a tool to transform the scene but to refine it—bringing out its character in a way that’s palpable but not overpowering. By mastering the subtle use of this filter, your images will hold truth to nature that’s as honest and inviting as the region itself.

BTW:

Since there’s only one month left on my wall calendar, I need to order a new one for next year. If you’d like me to print a copy for you, please let me know before Thanksgiving. They’re 8½ X 11 inches on sturdy stock with a spiral ring at the top. I have no idea how much they will cost. Currently, Vista Print wants $14 apiece plus shipping, but they often mark them down later in the month. If you’re willing to roll the dice, let me know (please don’t leave your email in the comments).

Ghost Town Gears: Vulture City’s Mechanical Past Picture of the Week, Vulture City, Arizona

Antique differential gearing linked to a hit-and-miss engine, showcasing the mechanical history of Vulture City. — Vulture City’s Mechanical Tale: A Flywheel’s Connection to a Bygone Era

Welcome back, intrepid explorers, to our final haunting episode in Vulture City. Today, we’re diving deep into the mechanical heart of this ghost town and a peek at the commendable efforts by the caretakers to ensure its stories are preserved for eons to come. Remember last week’s little misadventure? Let’s stick close together; one ghostly escapade is quite enough!

This week’s spotlight is a relic from yesteryears—an old gas-powered engine. Not the vroom-vroom kind in your garage, but a stationary titan engineered to power the weighty machinery of its time. Its genius? To be fuel-efficient, it was crafted to ignite every other cycle, creating an unmistakable bang-pop-pop sound. This rhythmic cadence christened them “Hit-and-Miss” engines. Much like the nostalgic rhythm of a gramophone, the beat of these engines is Vulture City’s undying echo from the past.

Surprisingly, despite their robust build with cast iron and boilers, you rarely find them in old abandoned mines. Why? Because most were sold or, unfortunately, scavenged for scrap. But in Vulture City, these pieces of history stand tall, painting a vivid picture of the bygone era.

Visiting Vulture City is akin to stepping into a time capsule. But don’t be fooled by the town’s pristine appearance. Recent photos showcase the harrowing reality of dilapidated structures just a few years back. However, the new stewards have tirelessly worked to resurrect the town. From rusty Core 10 stainless steel rooftops to stabilized walls, every corner has been touched with care. And while some artifacts aren’t precisely period-authentic, they enhance the visitor’s experience manifold.

OMG—They Do Exist!

Humorous Halloween scene in Vulture City's brothel with playful pumpkins, hinting at a night of mischief. — Haunted Brothel: Pumpkins Celebrate in Style – Have you ever wondered why the Great Pumpkin never appears before the ‘Peanuts’ character, Linus? Here’s why. The Pumpkin has better things to do than hang out with kids all night.

Have you ever met pumpkins with more charisma than the guests at some fancy parties? Thanks to Ray Villafane’s magic touch, the pumpkins at Vulture City are a sight! Having showcased his prowess on HGTV, Ray’s uncanny ability to breathe life into gourds has added a spooky charm to the town’s Halloween festivities. For a deeper dive, check out this article here. All these initiatives spotlight the town’s undying spirit and commitment to entertaining and educating visitors year-round.

Thanks for tagging along on our ghostly gallivant this month. We’ve been overjoyed to share our tales and would be thrilled to hear yours! We invite you to share your Halloween or even brothel stories in the comment section below. Drop by my website for a closer peek at the engine here, or visit its gallery on Fine Art America here. Next week? A new location and saga you won’t want to miss. Be sure to tune in.

Till next time, keep your spirits high and your humor dry.
jw

Techniques: Shapes as Compositional Muses

Close your eyes and imagine… Oh wait, bad idea! Let’s explore the transformative power of shapes in photography. Do you think a plain signpost is mundane? Tilt it a bit, and you’ve got a story! Here’s a dive into how shapes craft a picture’s narrative:

Horizontal Lines: These lines evoke a sense of tranquility and restfulness. Imagine the horizon during a sunset; it exudes peace and serenity.
Vertical Lines: These lines impart strength, rigidity, and stability. Think of towering skyscrapers or tall trees reaching up to the sky.
Circles: Representing wholeness and unity, circles can create a focal point that keeps the viewer’s eye engaged. The never-ending loop of a circle often symbolizes the circle of life or eternity.
Triangles: Triangles can provide a sense of balance and stability in a composition, often directing the viewer’s eye to the top or base of the triangle. They can be dynamic or stable depending on their orientation.
Curves and S-Curves: These lines are graceful, flowing, and can be sensuous. S-curves, in particular, can guide the viewer’s eye through the composition, providing depth and interest. Picture a winding river through a landscape; it captivates the viewer into the scene.

Mining Memories: The Silent Sentinels of Vulture City Picture of the Week - Vulture City, Arizona

Headframe: Vulture City's towering relic from its mining past — Mining Memories: The Silent Sentinels of Vulture City – Dive into Vulture City’s history, and you’ll discover mining relics, quirky tales, and even pumpkins with legs. Your unexpected desert journey awaits!

Hello again from Vulture City, where the unexpected is just another Tuesday! As I’ve continued my explorations here, I uncovered stories hidden in the shadows and surprises around every corner. I have butterflies in my stomach, and I can’t wait to tell you that I was right about those menacing pumpkins—but let’s talk about this week’s photo first, and then we’ll get to the paranormal.

Leading the tour today, we’re craning our necks to take in a lofty structure known as a headframe. No, it’s not the latest in chiropractic care; it’s an essential tool in mining. Headframes served as the backbone (pun intended) of many mines, hauling not just ore but the brave souls who ventured deep underground. While the exact inventor of the headframe remains a debate for the history books, these mechanical marvels evolved from humble hand-powered origins to the might of steam and electric prowess.

In our arid southwest, standing headframes are rarer than rain. Given that lumber had to journey to these barren expanses, and the indigenous trees weren’t quite up for the task, it’s hardly surprising. The smaller mines often skipped the theatrics, as their digs weren’t exactly the stuff of Jules Verne novels. However, tread cautiously if you’re trekking across the desert and spot one (or just heaps of sturdy wood)! There’s likely a yawning chasm lurking beneath.

The sentinel at Vulture City isn’t the grandest I’ve encountered, and it’s been repositioned away from the original mine shaft. I surmise it’s a safety maneuver to stop kiddos from taking unplanned trips down under—after all, youngsters aren’t toast. They don’t pop back out when they’re done. With its singular pulley setup, this headframe likely relied on sturdy equine muscle power. Imagine that—an equestrian gym session! These timber titans might be mute but resonate with tales of grit, ambition, and underground treasures.

When I thought Vulture City couldn’t get any more bizarre, the town proved me wrong. As I walked through the displays, I saw one building marked with a Brothel sign. Of course, I had to check it out because—that’s the kind of guy I am. I expected to see an excellent museum-style exhibit featuring swanky furniture and feather beds covered with hand-made quilts. You know, the usual dust-covered stuff. But what did I find when I walked into the Brothel’s waiting room? Three pumpkins casually lounging on the sofa, arms and legs crossed, discussing the weather (I presume—I don’t speak pumpkin). But the moment they saw me, it was like I’d flipped on the lights in a New York City apartment at midnight—those pumpkins scattered faster than… well, pumpkins with legs!

Three orange clients spending their free time looking for social media. — Ghostly Gourds: An Unexpected Brothel Encounter – You’ll never know who’s already in line when you unannounced into a brothel’s waiting room.

I was lucky that I already had my camera at the ready. I was able to squeeze off one clear shot before all of that dust was kicked up. They scattered in different directions so fast I sprained my eyeballs tracking them. You see—I was right about these pumpkins, and unlike the fuzzy Sasquatch photos you see in the check-out counter rags, this one’s sharp as a tack.

As we inch closer to the spookiest day of the year, keep your camera ready, and more importantly, keep a wooden stake and garlic clove nearby! Who knows what might be lurking around the next corner? If you’d like to examine the headframe closer, it’s on my website (Jim’s Web page) and a page at Fine Art America (FAA Link). Join me next week as we conclude our Vulture City voyage and, fingers crossed, solve the pumpkin enigma.

Till then, keep your spirits high and your humor dry!
jw

Techniques: The Art of Capturing the Unexpected

The most mesmerizing snaps in photography often arise from serendipity—like those jaw-dropping space launch vistas captured by eagle-eyed air travelers. Hence, when queried about the best camera, I quip, “The one you’ve got handy,” which, nowadays, is probably your phone.
Photography, much like life, is peppered with unforeseen marvels. Whether it’s anthropomorphic pumpkins or whimsical backdrops, mastering these fleeting instances demands foresight and improvisation. Here’s my toolkit for seizing the spontaneous:

• Stay Vigilant: Your camera should be an extension of your arm. Magic rarely sends an RSVP.
• Opt for Rapid Shutter: The key to pinning down swift, fleeting moments in pristine clarity.
• Experiment with Perspectives: An unusual viewpoint can accentuate the oddities of a scene.
• Keep a Cool Head: When faced with the unexpected, breathe, tweak, and click.
• Welcome the Unscripted: Don’t shun the anomalies; let them enhance your photographic narrative.

Remarkable snapshots often sprout from impromptu events. So, let spontaneity be your muse, and you might clinch that once-in-a-lifetime frame.

BTW:

I just added another YouTube video to my On the Road series. This one covers my Arizona Mountain Portfolio. If you’d like to watch this six minutes of eye candy, you can see it here: https://youtu.be/pN0dbZ2tBj8

Vineyards in the Afternoon Sun Temecula, California

Over the past few weeks, I’ve shown you pictures of Riverside County’s idyllic countryside and recounted the story of my last visit and how much things have changed. So, I hear you asking me, “You and Queen Anne drove four hours to Temecula for wine tasting. Get on with it.” OK. Put the gun down; I surrender. As you can see, this week’s photo—called Vineyards in the Afternoon Sun—is finally a vineyard shot, so let’s talk about the wine and why they can produce fine wines in the otherwise hot and dry Southern California Desert.

Temecula Wine Country in Southern California covers over 33,000 acres and boasts over 40 wineries producing world-renowned wines. The region’s ideal grape-growing conditions are due to its Mediterranean climate, granite-rich soil, and unique geography shaped by the San Jacinto Fault Zone and the Santa Ana Mountains. The area’s rich history dates back to the indigenous Pechanga Band of Luiseño Indians, the first to plant grapevines and make wine in the region.

The Santa Ana and San Jacinto Mountains—the snow-covered mountain in last week’s shot—offer stunning natural scenery and are popular destinations for outdoor recreation; they were formed due to tectonic activity associated with the San Andreas Fault system. Despite being part of the same geological formation, they have distinct differences in their ecology and climate. Today, both mountain ranges are home to a diverse array of plant and animal life, making them an essential part of Southern California’s ecology.

Temecula, Southern California’s wine-growing region, owes its distinct wine flavors to its terroir, a combination of soil, climate, and topography. The region’s decomposed granite and clay loam soil provides the ideal conditions for grape growing, while the warm weather and ample sunshine result in rich, full-bodied red wines and fruity white wines. The region’s topography creates a range of microclimates that influence grape flavor, with vines planted on steep slopes producing concentrated flavors and those grown in the valley producing fruit-forward wines. Sustainable farming practices and high elevation contribute to healthier grapes and complex flavors.

Temecula’s wine country has a rich history, with Spanish missionaries planting the first grapevines in the late 1700s. However, it was in the mid-1960s that the modern wine industry began to take shape. Today, Temecula is a bustling tourist destination, attracting visitors from all over the world who come to taste the region’s award-winning wines and soak up the stunning scenery. Visitors can also explore the region’s rich cultural heritage and enjoy countless opportunities to taste some of the region’s finest wines.

In January, Queen Anne and I had the pleasure of embarking on a three-day adventure in Temecula Wine Country, and it was an absolute blast! The rolling hills, endless vineyards, and charming tasting rooms with picturesque outdoor patios immediately struck us. From the moment we arrived, we were swept up in a boozy frenzy that we won’t forget. Despite increasing anties, we indulged in incredible wines, taking in stunning views of the valley and experiencing the utmost charm of each unique tasting room we visited. We highly recommend this unforgettable experience, but a word of caution: after a glass or five, be sure not to drive. I strongly encourage you to visit this stunning region and toast its past and future success. But remember to snap some photos for your social media feeds – after all if you don’t post about it, did it occur?

Flower Barrels - A vintner has repurposed old wine barrels as flower pots along the patio. — Flower Barrels – A vintner has repurposed old wine barrels as flower pots along the patio.

As usual, you can see a larger version of Vineyards in the Afternoon Sun on its web page by clicking here. Next week’s chat gets even more specific when we review the last tasting room on our tour. You won’t want to miss it.

Till next time

San Jacinto Field Temecula, California

San Jacinto Field - The snow covered San Jacinto Peak dominates the skyline near Temecula, California. — San Jacinto Field – The snow-covered San Jacinto Peak dominates the skyline near Temecula, California.

Long before I moved to Arizona—before my time in the Army—I used to enter rallies driving my 64 Ford Falcon. For my non-gearhead readers, a car rally is a competition where the hosting club plans a pleasant drive through the countryside. A driver’s job is to follow directions at a given speed and arrive at checkpoints on time. At the same time, the event chairperson purposefully writes the instructions as vague as possible for back roads that are impossible to drive at the speed they’re talking about. Each team is scored by how many seconds off you arrive at checkpoints behind schedule—if you can even stay on course.

I mention this because, in last week’s comments, our friend Gary brought up an “uphill-in-both-directions-in-the-snow” moment—in other words, his later recollections of Temecula Valley. It reminded me of the only previous time I visited the farms and fields of Riverside County was during one of these rallies.

In the October between high school graduation and joining the Army, we’d pilgrimage to the legendary Riverside International Raceway to attend the annual Can-Am race sponsored by the Los Angeles Times. In those days, Can-Am cars were the cutting edge of racing technology, having big brutish American engines shoehorned into tiny European chassis. I was an apostle. I didn’t know it then, but in 1969 Uncle Sam was reaching for my shirt collar, so my teenage days were numbered.

As that summer ended, I was already planning a long October weekend at the racetrack. The So-Cal Sports Car Club was staging a pre-race time-distance rally in Riverside, culminating with two laps around the track. I don’t remember why my usual navigator wasn’t available, but I recruited the older brother of one of my friends because he wanted to see the race and said he could read directions.

For brevity’s sake, all I will say about that event was that it started in the Shakey’s Pizza parking lot across the street from Riverside’s stunning Mission Inn on a cool, damp, and foggy Sunday morning. The course layout took us past Hemet, Moreno Valley, and Perris towns. We couldn’t see more than a thousand feet of road through the grey murk. We missed the mountains, fields, and trees dotting the countryside, but we did pass cherry stands that I was sure I’d return to someday. My navigator and I got hopelessly lost and behind schedule, so we threw in the towel and drove to the last known checkpoint with our tails between our legs. We rejoined the group at an infield staging area and thought, “At least we’d get a couple of timed laps around the track.”

You already know what’s next, don’t you? The laps weren’t time trials as I had imagined. It was a painful parade of rally drivers behind a slow pace car at 25 mph. Everyone was holding back to get a run at the turns by the second lap. The pack of cars looked like a hobbled caterpillar trying to make its way along a cherry tree branch. At the time, it was genuinely humiliating. I wanted to show Jim, Dan, Mark, Bruce, and Roger how good I was. Now, it’s amusing.

As Gary mentioned last week, that part of California is different now. The two-lane back roads we sped down are now eight-lane freeways with crowded off-ramps. The rural fruit stands have been replaced with Costco, CVS, LA Fitness, and car dealerships. The pristine mountain ridges are lined with rows of McMansions that look like pop-up targets at a rifle range. With clusters of boxy tract homes, Temecula Valley has become another typical So-Cal suburb.

Queen Anne and I spent time driving between housing developments during our January visit and saw a glimpse of the past. In this week’s photo, you can see the open spaces we found by Lake Skinner. In the shot that I call San Jacinto Field, the foreground is dominated by a field left fallow this season. In the near background, you see low-elevation mountains—Bachelor Mountain (2470) on the left and Black Mountain (3051) on the right. Covered in the snow in the far distance is San Jacinto Peak (10,834), which is over 50 miles as the crow flies. It’s much further if you walk. This photo was taken a month before California recently got slammed with two heavy snowfalls. I’m sure the top is even brighter white at this writing.

Wine Glasses - A sample of red and white wines while enjoying lunch at one of Temecula's Vineyards. — Wine Glasses – A sample of red and white wines while enjoying lunch at one of Temecula’s Vineyards.

Like always, you can see a larger version of San Jacinto Field on its web page by clicking here. Be sure to return next week when we drive up the wine-country valleys and visit some vineyards.

Till next time
jw

Winter Trees Temecula, California

Winter Trees - I picked this photo from our Temecula trip to clearly mark a change from the historic cars and buildings that we've been showing the past few months. — Winter Trees – I picked this photo from our Temecula trip to mark a change from the historic cars and buildings we’ve been showing the past few months.

If you’re a devout idiom believer, March’s weather should be enjoyable. It indeed “came in like a lion.” Here in the Weaver Mountain foothills, snow fell twice this week. With the surrounding mountains covered in white and our rooftops under a blanket of snow, it resembled Colorado around here. You should have seen Queen Anne covering up her plants with wet sheets. I should have taken pictures, but I didn’t want to get my toesies all wet.

As you can see from this week’s picture, we’re taking a break from old cars and buildings this month. Instead, I’ve given you quite the opposite—pure nature. Well, it’s Southern California farmland, and the trees were planted in a neat row. If you look closely, a half-dozen more have been chopped down. I’m not privy to why a farmer planted deciduous trees or the cause of their demise. I stopped the car for this photo because I liked how the dormant trees looked on the sine-wave grassy landscape. It reminds me of the Windows 97 background pictures. I call this photo Winter Trees.

We were driving around the rural Riverside County back roads because we decided to take a break from our hectic schedule of watching I Love Lucy reruns and go on a wine-tasting tour. It’s one of the few road trips we enjoy, and Her Majesty will put down her Kendal and get out of the car.

Decades ago, when I lived in Scottsdale, I had dinner with a restaurateur friend, where he shared a bottle of new wine labeled Calloway. That name should seem familiar because the family makes golf clubs. It was a charming Fumé Blanc. It didn’t come from Napa but from Temecula Valley—a small town north of San Diego. Over the past few years, we’ve tasted some lovely wines from that region and read a few articles praising the area. Since neither of us had visited Temecula, and it was only a four-hour dive, we turned the TV off, hopped in the car, and spent a few days exploring the town.

If you’ve ever driven from Phoenix to LA, you know Mount San Jacinto—the mountain towering over Palm Springs, whose feet begin below sea level, and its peak is 10,834 feet high. A tramway on its east face will take you to the top, and I guarantee you’ll need a jacket once you get up there, even if the temperature is over 100°F below. Temecula is on the other side of that mountain, and to get there, you take US60 to Riverside, then turn south on Interstate 215 and continue on Interstate 15. Even on Wednesday afternoon, you’ll run into traffic—it is California, after all.

I’ve been tasting wines from around the globe since I was wet behind the ears, and Queen Anne and I have continued that journey since she joined me thirty-five years ago. We have witnessed extreme changes in our tasting experiences as the years passed. Some of them have been good, and others have been a disaster.

Queen Anne in Temecula - After visiting a few tasting rooms, this is the look on Queen Anne's face. It means that she needs to be fed before she does a face-plant on the table. — Queen Anne in Temecula – This is the look on Queen Anne’s face after visiting a few tasting rooms. It means that she needs to be fed before she does a faceplant on the table.

When we started so long ago, a vintner’s profit center was selling cases of wine. The tasting bars were a marketing tool used to show off their product. If you liked the wine, you bought a bottle or a case if you were flush. Then the Napa area got uppity and started charging visitors for samples. At first, your charge was applied to a purchase, then you got a glass memento, and finally, you paid to play—period.

Other wine regions eventually followed suit. Today if you want to enjoy the experience of tasting limited-production wines, you can expect to pay from $20 to $30 per flight—per person. Of course, two people can share a taste, but the pours have become stingy. We experienced those prices in Wilcox, Arizona, of all places. Today, a vintner’s profit center has moved to the tasting bar—somebody has to pay for those elegant buildings. It’s discouraging for us poor little winos to have fun anymore.

Do you think that’ll stop us? No way. Life’s too short not to have fun, and during March, we’ll share some of the sights and tastes of Temecula. Maybe we’ll talk about what to look for in fine wines and call out swill for what it is. Meanwhile, clicking here lets you see a larger version of Winter Trees on its Webpage.

Till next time
jw

BTW:

I was pleased with all of last month’s participation. I hope you’ll join in on the conversations if this month’s topic interests you.

Shell Station Lowell Arizona

Shell Station - A small Shell gas station is located at the north end of Erie Street in Lowell, Arizona. — Shell Station – A small Shell gas station is located at the north end of Erie Street in Lowell, Arizona. The 51 Chevy parked out front was a nice touch. The pumps are priced at 41 cents per gallon if you’re interested.

Maybe I’m doing this wrong, but I’m a photographer first and a storyteller second. When I’m out taking pictures in the field, I don’t have a story in mind that I have to illustrate. My stories come after I’m at my desk trying to explain why I bothered to snap the shutter. Some weeks, I struggle to put together two pages of sensible words; other times, my thoughts fly at my keyboard, and my fingers seem to move barely.

When Queen Anne and I happened upon Lowell and made our unplanned stop, I hopped out of the car and started snapping pictures down one side of Erie Street and up the other. When I returned home and processed the images, it was like there was a story in me begging to be told—and these were the perfect pictures to hang it. Like the rest of February, this week’s featured image, Shell Station, has a built-in untold story about my first real job.

I never got an allowance when I was in high school. My dad paid me to work at his drapery factory after school and on weekends. It should have been the perfect arrangement because I was mostly alone. I hated it because it was repetitive work, and it had nothing to do with cars or girls—besides, Dad always thought I was goofing off, which I was.

The summer of my graduation, Dave—a good friend of mine—asked if I’d be interested in working evenings at his brother’s gas station. George—the owner—was short a person and needed someone dependable. I went for an interview, and George wanted me to start that very Saturday so that he could teach me how to pump gas. On Saturday, I was still in bed when the phone rang, and I vaguely remember driving to Van Nuys half-dressed.

George’s station was an Atlantic-Richfield (ARCO now) on the northeast corner of Van Nuys and Magnolia Boulevards. It was about three times the size of the Shell Station in this week’s picture. He had three gas islands and two service bays, open 24 hours daily. My salary was only 1.65/hr, but because it was a service station, we got a commission on everything but gas. That’s why we were so happy to wash your windows (blades), check your oil (air filter), and your tire pressure (if you sold a set of tires, you were golden). Although it was common then, we didn’t pressure the customers to buy anything—we’d show them the evidence and let them decide. It worked for me, and I could make an extra $5.00 weekly.

There was another significant aspect of George’s station. I don’t know if you did this in your part of the country when you were a teenager, but cruising was extensive on the west coast. Every Friday night, pimpled face adolescents from across the valley would pile into shiny cars and drive up and down Van Nuys Boulevard. The guys paired up in someone’s hot rod, and the girls rode around in Daddy’s T-Bird. Our traffic pattern started in Panorama City, south through Bob’s Big Boy, a turn around at Magnolia, and drove back to the beginning. There wasn’t any point to it other than to see and be seen (and it annoyed older people). If you need an example, run to Blockbuster Video and check out the movie American Graffiti—that was us.

Our station was at the loop’s south end (less than a mile from Bob’s), and we’d have more traffic driving behind the gas station every Friday night than we did out front the rest of the week. Since we were convenient, the kids took advantage of our restrooms. From the horror stories I heard, I’m glad I wasn’t part of the Saturday morning crew that had to clean them.

As you’ve heard, everything shall pass, which also happened with George’s station. As property values rose in the San Fernando Valley, the gas station’s land was so expensive that Atlantic Richfield sold the land to a developer who built a high rise. George got an amicable settlement and a much smaller station in Reseda, which closed at 9:00 pm each day and didn’t open on Sundays and holidays. I worked at that station until I got drafted. Besides getting my first drag racing ticket on my way home, I don’t have any interesting stories from there.

Click here to see a larger version of Shell Station on its website. This completes our February visit to Lowell, so we’ll move on next week. Come back and find out where the road led us—won’t you?

Till next time
jw

BTW:

Did you work at a gas station? How do you think they compare to the self-service ones we have today? Do you feel the cars get as much care as they need?