The Charlie Bravo Story

My Story Begins Here…

Dad here. On a cold, raw day in January, my son Zach and I were making a high speed pass through a rural area east of Little Rock when we spotted a dog crate partially hidden in the weeds beside the road. Something – or Someone – made us stop and check the crate. What we found was beyond horrible... A full sized dog reduced to a ragged, scabby skeleton, smelling so strongly of death…
The Charlie Bravo Story

Whispers

Psst! I think I saw his eyes move! Shhh... its better if he doesn't realize we're all staring at him, and he thinks he's waking up on his own. But I have to pee! Ajax, you ALWAYS have to pee; crowd in even closer, focus and direct your pee thoughts directly into dad's mind, and he'll have no choice but to get up, or he'll end up pottying on himself. But the more I focus,…
The Charlie Bravo Story

Peta Nocconah

Comanche name, translated as "he who travels alone but comes home". Dad here; after an epic three thousand mile trip through the American southwest, Charlie and I are once again ensconced in the relative safety of the Casa del Whackos. We determined long ago that time and money not spent on motels and campgrounds is time and money that can be spent on gas and mobility, so we would rather rough camp like the Comanches…
The Charlie Bravo Story

The mountains are calling

Dad and I were working on the 2019 calender, and seeing the pictures of past trips out west caused the wanderlust bug to bite, and bite hard. Whether the Ozarks of Arkansas or the Rockies of Colorado, neither are immediately accessible from the Casa, their prescence is still consoling despite the fact that they are many miles of flat, grinding interstate to reach their refreshing slopes. They comfort us with the knowledge, that should the…
The Charlie Bravo Story

Role Call

Dad here; life never seems to slow down at the Casa. Time advances like a leaf floating in the current, seeming to be unmoving in the distance, then speeding up as it approaches only to vanish beneath your bow, never to be seen again. Such is the parade of characters that have inhabited this madhouse over the years; just since Charlie started this adventure, we have seen the passing of Stevie, Max, and Bull Taco…
The Charlie Bravo Story

Sleeping with Claire

Dad here; zero dark thirty at the Casa. Through my eye slits I can see mom's voluptuous figure silhouetted in the bedroom doorway; maybe if I lay still enough, she'll continue on her migration the Land of the Kitchen to create the elixir of life, that wonderful brew that miraculously replaces antidepressants, jumper cables, and industrial strength laxatives, all in one wonderful cup. Like motorcycles, if coffee were discovered today, it would never be allowed…
The Charlie Bravo Story

The Black Dog

Have you ever felt like you're running from your calling? Dad here; when Charlie and I first met and she began to blog, we were determined that this would be a refuge from the constant negativity on the web. As the years have passed, we have unfortunately encountered unpleasant situations that needed sharing among the familial units, the loss of Stevie, Max, Bull Taco, the loss of my job, the decline of my dad, the…
Friends of Charlie Bravo

Too much to gain to lose

Daylight softens around the edges at the Casa, and the dusk and dew conspire to start falling simultaneously. Mom is off somewhere getting a little two-wheeled therapy on the Yamaha, and the hummingbirds have descended en masse in a last ditch effort to decimate our sugar reserves before nightfall is complete. Sunday night should be the most peaceful time of the week, but often the exact opposite is true; anxiety begins to build before the…
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