Full nights sleep. Eating oatmeal and drinking coffee here at the Windmill Suites, reading Jerry Weintraub’s fiercely entertaining book “When I stop Talking You’ll know I’m dead”.
Surprise, AZ is humming like a wire with baseball families (Rangers VS Dodgers). A kid smashed into me screaming at his sister “I don’t want to play puppy tag!”. I don’t know what that is but I feel like I just played it.
The whole world is a stage here at the Windmill…as JR pointed out, a wonderful mix of quirky sports fans. The Hobby Lobby decorative fans: with sports logos on their earrings and their favorite team’s colors as their shoelaces. The old curmudgeon fans: who recite statistics and to the ballpark knowing they are just gonna be pissed off and let down the whole day long. The stoner fans in the parking lot, who we chatted up about our friends in the Texas music scene, ”Micky and the Motorcars”.
We are out of LA in a hotter more widescreen desert, the sun is platinum bright. Time to return some calls and eat up some miles. All eyes on Van Horn, TX for tonight’s next stop with the van and Penske.
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