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…

Loneliness

Have you ever noticed that your times of most acute loneliness are often in the company of people that you know very well? Or even worse, in a social setting that you possibly helped introduce a newcomer to the group, only to later find yourself the outsider? Before you know it, you seem to be on the outside looking in, your opinions sought only after the actual decision has been made, the easy banter that…

Priests of the Aztecs

Zach came over tonight to regale me with a recounting of last week's encounter with the fine folks at the Conejes County Hospital. I do remember them telling me the drug that they were going to hit me with might cause hallucinations, but I had no idea that they would be as vivid and entertaining as they were. I mean, they were seriously mind expanding, with me visiting ancient day-glo Mayan civilizations and discussing matters…

Homebound

Dad here; its been two weeks since the accident, and span seems like an eternity for someone who desperately needs to be figuring out what comes next, but the revolving door of pain, pain medication, and the general feeling of uselessness acquired from laying supine on the couch crowds any tendency towards creativity from one's brain. Mom's first response when she heard of my predicament was one of pity, to have covered over two thousand…

I have a name

I had a name. Sometimes it was on my collar, sometimes embedded in a microchip, but more often than not, any reference to my identity has been removed; not to protect the innocent, but to shield the cowardly guilty. But the fact remains that I did have a name, and an identity, and a place in a social hierarchy before being unceremoniously dumped to fend for myself in a world that I couldn't imagine even…

Independence Day

O430, and all is well... I'm in my preferred spot, the navigator seat in the Minivan Gogh, and we're heading west. Dad is executing his usual duties as pilot, and has his bum stump firmly cocooned in some crazy looking contraption he calls "das boot". If you ask me, it makes him look like an upside down fiddler crab... We're heading back to Colorado on a whirlwind trip to pick up dad's DR650, but we…

The Salt Flats

Idaho is a loooong state; we started south approximately twenty miles south of the Canadian border with no particular destination in mind but "down". But there is no down in Idaho, just back and forth, bouncing like a pinball between Washington and Montana as we made our way down to the Lolo Highway, the famous site of the motorcyclist's favorite road sign,"curvy road next 99 miles". Idaho is a meteorological phenomena, as the farther south…

Psst! Hey, Claire!

Whassup, Ajax? Mom's gone! Alex called, seems to have locked herself out of her apartment getting ready for work, and mom took off over there with her lock-picking skills to save the day! And she took Marco the Narco with her, that yappy little tattletail! That means that dad is alone and particularly vulnerable with that cast on his leg, and more importantly, there are no witnesses! Ajax, you're leaving out two key factors: one…
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