No More Toymakers to the King
The first four pictures I did last year, the second four this year. Source: Under the Bear Hood
Peace, Tranquility and Kick Ass Piña Coladas — George Town, Cayman Islands
She was a treasure and came to these parts around 1990 to assist her nephew with the business and has failed to make a sustained escape. An eclectic restaurant sporting tasty food and beverages, including our favourite "Mutant Ninja" Turtle dish, all made better by the hustle of Madame Annick. What started as a bit of a breeze over a day or so ended with a couple of days of sustained wind and 5' waves on our beach before it blew itself out. There is also great need high levels of personal and corporate commitment and one of the foremost investors is one Kenneth Dart. Funny really that through it all, the temperature never dropped below 28C and in every cloud these is a silver lining as every surfer from these parts was out making the best of these angry seas. This sort of confidence in Grand Cayman doesn't stop at the reclusive Dart and the grapevine reveals grand indulgences of the rich up to and including the provision of missile proof window glass for sundry and Russian billionaire's homes. Source: TravelPod.com TravelStream™ — Recent Entries at TravelPod.com
"You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet"
"Jesus," he said, turning to me. "You scared the SHIT out of me. Right as I pulled up in front of the house, a light came on in the garage and some BIG GUY came out. Laughing, the gas can clanging and sloshing against my legs, I climbed in the car and we screeched down the street. We'd grab jerry-cans off the sides of Jeeps or out of the backs of boats. Cruising slowly through a subdivision, we spotted a five-gallon gas can sitting right at the front of a dark, open garage. Jay dropped out after three days in high school, and had a job for a few weeks as a car-detailer, but after he quit that job it was a constant scramble for More Gas Money. Turning away from the garage, I thought I heard a low growl behind me. Laughing out loud, heavy gas can in hand, I ran across the front yard to the street. There were almost always girls around, who wanted to go cruising with the outlaw with the long black hair and the hot car. We'd cruise around looking for open garage doors, and would slow down while looking for gas cans to grab. He rolled the car slowly down the street, saying he'd circle back to pick me up. I tiptoed up across the lawn to the side of the garage, grabbed the gas-can by the handle on top, and lifted. If Jay found a car without a locking gas-cap on a dark side-street, he'd get out and try to siphon some gas out of it with his "Oklahoma credit card" -- a beat-up hunk of old garden hose. Source: TAD's Back-Up Plan