Random Good Things About Bakersfield #24

I don't really have anything but it just occurred to me it had been months since I wrote something nice about Bakersfield.

So, let's see... thinking..... hmmm........ Ok....

Bakersfield is centrally located.

It's not much, but it's something. And it's true... within a couple of hours, in any direction, you can be someplace nice.

Really nice. Really, really nice.

And I think of those places ALL. THE. TIME.

*sigh*

Some day...

Random Good Things About Bakersfield #23

Your chances of running into a Kardashian are less than zero. And that's a good thing.

Yes, I know... the picture at the top is actually a Cardassian, a bitter,cunning, predatory alien race from "Star Trek"

Six of one, half a dozen of another.

Random Good Things About Bakersfield #22

Seven digit dialing.

In Bakersfield, or all of Kern County for that matter, you can dial a phone call with only seven digits and the call actually goes through! It's like magic.

I can't remember how long it's been since you could do that in LA. Sometime in the 80's I think.

It's a throwback to a simpler time. I always bely my big city roots when someone asks for our number and I start with the area code...

"It's six, six, one..."

They screw up their noses and look at you like you're stupid. Of course it's 661. Everything is 661. What else would it be? It's 661 as far as the eye can see and much further beyond. In fact, the 661 area code is so vast it even bleeds into northern LA County. I wonder if the Nouveau Riche of the Santa Clarita Valley are aware they share an area code with Bako. That can't sit well.

It's quite the change from our former lives. We lived in the 310, but they were quickly running out of numbers so they gave it a 424 overlay, meaning your next door neighbor could have a different area code, and even if they didn't you'd still have to dial 310 to reach them. Both of our cell phones were 323, as was my office. The boyfriend worked over the hill and was 818. My parents in Orange County were 714, but my sister, a few miles further south, was 949. The boyfriend's family near the coast was 562. Add in friends in the 951, clients in the 213, and vendors in the 626 and it was all just too much.

But no such worries here. We don't need no stinking area codes.

The only thing that would be even better is if they reverted to the old named exchanges, like "Butterfield 8" or "Murray Hill".

How great would it be if your number was "WeedPatch5-1234"?

Random Good Things About Bakersfield #21

Well, this is a first. A "Random Good Things About Bakersfield" that's a genuinely "good thing"!

When I set out to write "good things" posts I always start with the best of intentions, really I do. But something happens along the way and they usually end up as snarky back handed compliments at best. Don't know why really. Birds gotta fly, fish gotta swim.

But this time is different.

My good friend Sherry found herself in Bakersfield with a couple of hours to kill. Spend much more time in this town and that won't be the only thing you want to kill. She lives in the scenic mountains an hour south of town and needed to have her car serviced and for better or worse, Bako was the closest option.

I went to pick her up from the dealer and we were going to have a nice leisurely breakfast. When I think "fine dining" in Bako, I think of only one place... the trailer park. It just so happened to be only a block or two away. However, once she saw it, she was less than impressed and she had a suggestion of her own.

Six or seven years ago, she'd eaten in an old school diner somewhere in town and thought that would be the perfect place. Worked for me. "Where is it?" I asked. She couldn't recall, although she thought it was near downtown. What's the name of it?" I asked. She couldn't recall that either.

"But I think it's next to a carwash..."

There aren't that many advantages to living in a small podunk town, but one of them is that armed with only that information, we soon found the restaurant... The 24th Street Café.

It is awesome.

It's like stepping back into the 40's. I don't think anything has been changed since that time, but everything is well maintained and authentic. There's a horseshoe shaped counter in the center and well-worn leather booths surrounding it. Even the wait staff seems like they've been transported Back to the Future and couldn't be nicer. And the food is great - typical diner fare done to perfection.

So if you ever have the misfortune to find yourself in Bakersfield, seek out the 24th Street Café... it'll ease the pain.

It's on 24th Street. You would think that was obvious, but it's Bako.

You can't miss it... it's next to the carwash.

Random Good Things About Bakersfield #20

I was just thinking it had been an awful long time since I wrote anything nice about Bako. It's not for lack of trying, trust me. It's just always such a needle-in-a-haystack proposition. But then last night the boyfriend came up with one, so here goes.

I thought it would be nice to go out to dinner to celebrate Rosh Hashanah. The boyfriend is nominally Jewish; he even went to school in Israel for several years. At this point I think you could safely refer to him as "lapsed", although he does still speak to the dogs in Hebrew and they seem to quite enjoy it.

The only reason I even knew it was Rosh Hashanah is I've been working on a project for a client in LA who's ultra Orthodox and he was in quite a panic yesterday that we get the project wrapped up by sundown. I've had some wacky deadlines in my career, but that was a first.

So when the boyfriend arrived home from work, I wished him a hearty "Shana Tova!" and asked him where we should go for dinner. "What's involved in a typical Rosh Hashanah dinner?" I asked. He explained and... we decided on Teriyaki.

On the way to the restaurant he said he had to make a quick stop. We had to stop and buy him his lottery ticket. Every week he plays exactly one single, solitary lottery ticket. He's been playing the same numbers for years and he's convinced the one week he doesn't play them will be the week they finally come up.

We stopped at a nearby convenience store and he ran in while I waited in the car. When he returned, he said...

"You know, say what you will about Bakersfield but they do have the nicest convenience store clerks I've ever seen."

And you know what? He's right. With the exception of Miss Thang Tracy at the corner gas station, all the convenience store clerks I've encountered here have been exceedingly nice. And since there's roughly one convenience store for every 5 people in this town, that makes for a lot of nice people.

So.... Bakersfield: Nice Convenience Store Clerks.

Random Good Things About Bakersfield #19

Dumb flies.

You can't be surrounded by this much manure encrusted farmland and not have flies, and Bako has them in spades.

But, they're stupid.

I first noticed this during the first of many heat waves back in June. The house was full of flies, despite our best efforts to keep them out, but they were all just hovering around and lazily moving between rooms and you could walk right up and catch them with your hands.

Idiots.

I chalked it to the heat. Even though it was air conditioned inside, the broiling heat outside must have dulled their senses and slowed their reactions.

Or so I thought.

The weather has been surprisingly mild (for Bako), with temps seemingly stuck a degree or two over or under 100. Trust me, that's considered "brisk" for Bakersfield. And yet, the flies still seem to be operating at half speed. It's hardly sporting, being able to just walk up and whack them without much of a fight. But it's still somehow satisfying.

So there 'ya go.... Short Bus Flies.

Just one of the many “Wonders of Bako”.

Random Good Things About Bakersfield #17

Fruit!

I'm not talking about the crop dusted orchards outside of town, or the questionable produce in the market that's been shipped in nitrogen from Chile. I'm talking our own fruit!

When we first looked at the house back in September, it had sat empty for over a year. The front yard was so overgrown and unkept that you couldn't even see the house from the street. The backyard wasn't much better. Shortly after we moved in, we hired a crew to at least clear out the worst of it and it was only then that we discovered we hadn't just bought a house, but we had our own little mini orchard!

We have an orange, a tangerine, an apple, a plum and two fig trees! Plus one mystery tree; it's growing some fruit I've never seen before and no one we've asked has a clue what it is. It may be a kumquat tree, or some alien tree known only to Bako. If you lived here you'd know that isn't such a stretch of the imagination.

Right now the plum tree is so heavy with fruit that the branches are bowed to the ground. We finally went out and picked a bunch and I have to say they are the sweetest and most delicious plums I've ever tasted. Probably because it's about as organic as you can get here. It wasn't so much as fertilized during it's years of neglect. The oranges are wonderful too. The tangerines aren't quite there yet, and we'll have to wait for the fall for the apples.

And then there are the fig trees, one of which is simply massive. We didn't even know what it was until a week ago; we're city boys and not much for figs, so we were completely ignorant. You would have thought I would have a clue - all those years of art history classes and centuries of artists covering up everyone's naughty bits with fig leaves... now it makes sense. The fig leaves are humongous! You could totally hide John Holmes, with room to spare, with these leaves.

So there you have it. We're about as close to a Whole Foods as you'll find for a hundred miles.

Random Good Things About Bakersfield #16

Wool Growers.

Bakersfield has a long Basque heritage, but all that's left of it is a handful of Basque restaurants. Everyone says Wool Growers is the best.

The boyfriend had had a tough week and an even tougher Friday, so I decided to treat him to dinner out on the town. We drove around for awhile trying to figure out where to go and finally settled on Wool Growers. I eaten there once before, not long after we moved here. The people I was working for took me out to lunch and I remember at the time I was fascinated with it. To be honest, I was still a bit shellshocked from the move and happy to finally be eating somewhere that wasn't fast food or a chain restaurant. The lunch menu was limited and I was told at the time that to get the full monty I really needed to come back for dinner. And tonight was the night.

It's in a seedy part of town, and industrial area east of downtown. We passed a hooker along the way. I'm assuming it was a hooker. With the sequined magenta hot pants and impossibly high wedge heels she didn't look like she worked for any of the surrounding auto body shops, which were closed anyway.

The restaurant is in an unassuming block building with a lovely antique neon sign. We didn't have a reservation so we put our name in and took a seat at the old school bar for a couple of drinks.



It's been here forever, but looked like it got a makeover in the 70's with sculpted, curvalicious popcorn ceilings. How can you not love a restaurant with a sheep theme?




The way it works is you only get to choose your meat, so to speak. It's a three course meal and everyone gets the same first two courses and the same sides with your entree. The boyfriend chose lamb chops and I chose the veal.

The first course is a soup, which is served family style with a bowl of red beans and salsa. You dish it all up in a bowl and mix it all together. It's served with hard cheese and bread.



Course number two is a vinaigrette salad served with tomatoes and pickled tongue.



And finally, the main course is your entree, served with spaghetti marinara, french fries and corn.




All in all, it was an utterly charming evening.

But we'll never go back.

Truth be told, the food was kinda awful.

It may have been rich and authentic at one time, but at best it reminded us both of a Jr. High cafeteria. Almost everything was obviously straight out of a can. And like all Bako restaurants, whatever flavor there was fled town long ago. We couldn't even tell the difference between the lamb and the veal and how can pickled tongue have no taste? It was like eating cardboard.

So, I can't say I'd recommend it for the food, but it certainly wins hands down for atmosphere. And that appears to be enough. As bad as the meal was, we still left is surprisingly high spirits. And in Bakersfield, that qualifies as a good thing.

Random Good Things About Bakersfield #15

The cost of living.

It's still a little shocking how much our income has dropped in the past three years, fresh in the mind having just done our taxes. Softening the blow just a bit is the cost of living here. There's just no getting around the fact that Bakersfield is a crazy cheap place to live if you want to live in California.

The mortgage on our new home is several hundred dollars less than what we were paying in rent a few months ago. And the rent then was about the same as I paid for my LA apartment... back in 1991. In fact, our mortgage now, on a three bedroom home, is about one sixth of the mortgage on our much smaller home in LA.

Obviously, if we still lived in LA, owning a home would be out of the question. We'd have to rent. But our current mortgage is still probably about a quarter the cost of a lease on an apartment in a decent part of town. So my morbid curiosity got the better of me and the other day I went to Craigslist to determine where in LA we'd currently be living for this price.

Before I even started, I took an educated guess. It seemed pretty clear we'd have to live in some of the less savory neighborhoods of Greater LA.

I guessed Watts. Or Compton.

I went to Craigslist and entered our current mortgage as our maximum rent and... I was wrong.

We couldn't afford Watts!

Out of our price range. Yikes.

So I kept looking.

I did find quite a few located in Koreatown, but something about them all seemed a little fishy. They gave no addresses and the descriptions of the units were unbelievably vague. And strangest of all, they were all managed by the same person... "Mr. Ji." Something tells me Mr. Ji is up to no good. Fill out a rental application for Mr. Ji and you'll probably find yourself imprisoned in a downtown sweatshop. Or shipped off to Korea as a mail order bride.

After looking over the listings, it would appear that the only places we could afford to live for this price are the barrio of East LA or out near the auto salvage yards in the industrial wasteland part of the Valley. As bad as Bakersfield is, I tend to believe either of those choices would be considerably worse. At least here, we don't have to deal with cockfighting. At least not in this neighborhood.

So all in all, if your choices are either living in Bakersfield, or renting a room in a crackhouse in LA, I'd have to choose Bakersfield.

Especially when you factor in the bonuses. Because when we bought a home a Bakersfield, we didn't just get a house. We also got all the Modern Marvels the 70's had to offer...



Like a trash compactor!

How is it I've lived this long never knowing the joys of a trash compactor? Let me tell you - once you compact, you never go back. A whole week's worth of trash, in one densely packed, unbelievably heavy bag! And it worked out well since we gave up on recycling. Not by choice, mind you - after four months, the city still hasn't delivered a blue bin. Not that it would matter; I've yet to ever see the recycling truck even trundle down the street.

I got the hang of it pretty quick. There are, of course, some "Do's" and "Don'ts". You shouldn't put glass in for obvious safety reasons. Nothing like trying to haul out a relatively thin plastic bag full of shards of broken glass. Although, I have to admit, if I'm in a bad mood, I sometimes do it anyway just to hear it shatter. And you have to watch what foodstuffs you put in it. I discovered leftover pasta is a bad idea. That's a mess I never want to have to clean up again.

And then there's the midrowave! Sorry - "Radar Range"!

It looks like Mr. Peabody's Wayback Machine. No buttons here, it's all elaborate dials. It's so old it appears nobody knew how to work it. When we looked at the house it had a big sticker on it saying "Does Not Work", but the boyfriend quickly figured it out and it works just fine. At least I think it does. Although I suspect every time I heat up a cup of coffee I'm getting a chest X-ray. I'll be watching the news and a report will come on about radiation in Japan and I just eye the "Radar Range" suspiciously.

So all things being considered, in our current circumstances, we could do worse than Bakersfield. Never thought I'd ever say that. For once Bakersfield comes out on top.

Compared to living in a cardboard box off the 101 Freeway, it's a winner.

Random Good Things About Bakersfield #14

April In Bakersfield.

It's not exactly "April in Paris", but we'll take it.

April is by far the nicest time of the year here. If you're planning a trip to Bako, and I don't know why you would, now would be the time to do it.

April means the cold, clammy winter weather has passed and temperatures are lovely in the 70's and 80's. Everything is in bloom and vibrant with color. And the sky is blue... ish. Not quite really "sky blue", but it's about as close as it's ever going to get here.

You only have a matter of weeks to enjoy it, because as we roll into May the temperatures will start creeping past 100 and stay that way through September. All the greenery will start to wither in the heat and the city will become a ghost town as everyone goes into air conditioned lock-down for five months. And the once almost blue skies will turn the color of a used coffee filter. C'est la vie.

Of course, there's a downside; there always is here.

With the lovely April weather comes... the smell.

I actually had come to believe I had grown so acclimated to living here that I didn't notice the smell anymore. But it turns out the smell has been on winter hiatus. And now that the temperatures are warming up, it's back.

With a vengeance

To get a sense of what it smells like here, take a bag of fertilizer, throw it in your oven and bake at 450 degrees.

For five months.

But other than that, and that's a really big "but", it's really quite pleasant.

Random Good Things About Bako #13

No paparazzi.

I was wistfully watching the Academy Awards last night, drifting through misty, watercolored memories of Oscar parties past. Other people staked out Halloween or Christmas, but the Oscars were "my" signature event and for years I threw a huge Oscar bash. Catered, of course.

The last year I held it was 2001, and it was a disaster. Fat Lisa showed up early and plowed through all the food before they'd even given out "Best Supporting Actress"...

"Those appetizers were great. What else do you have?"

Those weren't appetizers. It was all the food that I had, enough to feed 20 people. And it was all gone. All, except the crudité - Fat Lisa didn't do vegetables.

And then there was my obnoxious (ex)friend Debra from New York. She went off her meds and decided to entertain the room with a non-stop, viciously nasty, running critique of everyone who popped up on TV. "Make her stop, please" my other friends pleaded, and Lord knows I tried. I even tried to kick her out. But she thought she was bringing the house down with her witty, solo, New York repartee. People left in droves, and by the time "Best Picture" finally arrived there were only three people left, and Debra was one of them. We haven't spoken since.

The next year, in the aftermath of 9/11 and the just then launched war in Afganistan, the Oscars opted for a muted, somber approach and I decided to pass on a party. And that was that. Never did it again.

But I digress.

So, as I was watching the Red Carpet arrivals and all the jostling paparazzi a thought popped into my head...

"I sure as hell don't miss that."

If you've ever had to run the gauntlet of them at baggage claim at LAX as they stalk B-List celebrities, you know what I mean. I had a whole convoy of them in black SUVs run me off the road on Sunset as they pursued poor LiLo as she tried to get a latte. And I've been stuck in gridlocked traffic on Robertson as they spilled into the street trying to capture Paris as she shopped at Kitson. Our house in LA wasn't far from the Michael Jackson death house, and for weeks it was like a scene out of "Apocalypse Now" as news helicopters hovered and buzzed the neighborhood..

No, I don't miss that.

And now that I live in Bako, it isn't an issue!

There isn't a paparazzi for over a hundred miles, because there isn't anyone famous for over a hundred miles. Not unless you count the high school football heroes, past and present. They walk as Gods* among the people of Bako. A couple of people have told me that Tommy Lee Jones "secretly" lives here. I can appreciate that. I basically "secretly" live here too - I'd never admit to living here in a million years. All the same, I think it's ludicrous and wishful thinking.

People also hint that "Big Hollywood Celebrities" come to Bakersfield to get plastic surgery away from the limelight. There might be some credence to that - there are a ton of plastic surgeons here, and one of the biggest has offices in Malibu - I just saw him on "Million Dollar Listings" selling his beach house for $5.4 mil. But seriously, celebrities can go to just about any corner of the globe to escape the limelight, and I rather doubt they'd choose Bakersfield.

Switzerland? Sure. Bakersfield? Not so much.

*The link shows what passes for celebrity stalking here in Bakersfield. David Carr was a local football hero and now plays for the 49ers. He was in town over the weekend. Buying a Camaro.

Random Good Things About Bako #12

Comic relief.

Good 'Ole Bako. Every time I'm feeling down and blue, something astoundingly stupid comes along to put a smile on my face.

This morning it was my favorite Weather Mistress.

Evidently with time to kill and out to prove she'd done her homework and was indeed smarter than a fifth grader, she was going on at length about this year's prevailing weather pattern... La Niña.

La Niña weather patterns, she informed us, are characterized by dry, dought-like conditions.

It was pouring rain outside.

She must have read that on "the Google".

In the very next breath she started going on about this Fall's record rains and how perhaps this could end up being one of the wettest winters on record in Bakersfield.

You could practically see the disconnected wires of her brain sparking behind her eyes.

I swear you could put the Chuck E. Cheese menu on the teleprompter and she'd read it as the forecast.

God bless her. I'm in such a good mood now.

Random Good Things About Bako #11

Small town charm.

OK, "charm" might be stretching it, but whatever it was, it was on full display last night for the Bakersfield Christmas Parade.

It's a big deal here, the Rose Parade and Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade all rolled into one. It draws a huge crowd and they broadcast it live. Marching bands, local dignitaries, homemade floats.

Very homemade.

And a lot of big rigs.

It was actually quite touching to see the whole community turn out to celebrate the season.

I only noticed one faux pas, when the homeless woman wandered onto the parade route with a shopping cart and the anchors mistook it for a float. But if you had seen what came before you'd know that that was an understandable mistake.

Random Good Things About Bako #9

The Oleander Neighborhood.

I took a wrong turn on Saturday and ended up in the Oleander neighborhood.

Where did this come from? It's absolutely charming.

Tons of Craftsman bungalows and grand, stately homes.


A lot of them were lovingly restored and lushly landscaped - I think we know where the gays live.


If the rest of the city matched this lovely neighborhood Bakersfield would actually be a nice place to live.


Sadly, the local taste seems to run to Caliterranean stucco boxes of recent vintage (anything built before 2000 is "really old"). But as long as this neighborhood is standing there's always hope.

Credit Where Credit Is Due

I admit I've been less than kind to the people of Bako, pointing out transgressions big and small for the better part of a year. But I'm nothing if not fair, and when they do something right they deserve some attaboys too. And let me tell you, these people do the Fourth of July right.

We weren't even supposed to be here; the plan was to spend this weekend looking for a new place to live. That didn't happen for a variety of reasons, but we did manage to spend the day out of town with friends.

We were on our way back, approaching the city around 9pm, when off to the left there was a sudden bloom of aerial fireworks. And another. And another. I was a little surprised because the last I had heard the city's annual fireworks show had fallen under the budget ax and had been cancelled. But then there were more, this time off to the right. And then they just kept multiplying as far as you could see. It soon became obvious that these weren't "official" displays; they were all being shot off from residential neighborhoods. Where did they get them? Maybe Mexico, although there's only one place I know to get professional grade aerial fireworks... Indian reservations. I know this first hand from a drunken road trip years ago that included a stop at a Navajo reservation in Arizona and ended with a tree on fire.

But that's a story for another time.

By the time we reached our exit the entire horizon was ablaze with fireworks and we ended up driving right into a wall of smoke. Seriously, the smoke was as thick as the Tule fog of winter, and the air was heavy with the smell of sulfur. As we continued on to the house, every side street was enveloped in smoke and sparks, fireworks going off in every direction. The mood was infectious and both the boyfriend and I started channeling our inner 12 year old pyromanic.

And we couldn't help but notice all the fireworks stands were still open.

There wasn't even a moment's hesitation - we were going to get in on the action. We stopped at the stand closest to the house, sponsored by the Mennonites. They may be pacifists, but they weren't above selling high explosives for a good cause. We allowed ourselves $20 and the boyfriend went out to get the most bang for the buck.

This must be how the phrase originated.

He returned with a bag of fountains, including a monster the size and shape of a carton of oatmeal which would be our grand finale.

We didn't even bother unpacking the car; the minute we hit the driveway we were out in the street with our mini arsenal...






And the grand finale...



... which was appropriately called "Hasta la Vista".

"See you later".

Kind of poetic, considering we're hopefully on our way out of here.

And now I can say I have one really fond memory of our time in Bakersfield.

Thanks Bako!

Random Good Things About Bako #8

"Safe and Sane" Fireworks!

That's a blast from the past. Literally.

Fireworks stands started going up over the past few days in Bako. I hadn't seen those in years! Decades! I had assumed all civilized parts of California had banned fireworks. And I was right - that's why you can still get them in Bakersfield.

That brings back memories. It was always such a rite of passage as a kid, the official opening of summer. The stands always went up a week or two after school let out, and we used to ride our bikes up and drool over the rainbow array of sparklers, ground flowers, fountains, cones and pinwheels.

Piccolo Petes!

Roman candles!

You had to be 16 to buy them. If you had older siblings, in theory they could buy them for you. But that rarely happened. No, you were at the mercy of your parents, and the parents always went for one of the boxed sets displayed against the back wall. At one end was the "Family Pack", which was small, wimpy and lame. And cheap, so that was always the parent's first choice. With a minimal amount of whining you could usually upgrade to something more substantial, and we usually settled on the "Let Freedom Ring" assortment. At the other extreme was the motherlode, the Holy Grail, a monstrous box the size of a coffee table... "THE COLOSSUS"!

No one ever got The Colossus.

The Greek family across the street had a son around my age. Every year his father would make a quick trip to Tijuana in the weeks before the Fourth of July and return with an illegal arms cache of ladyfingers, firecrackers and M-80's, which he dispersed generously to the neighborhood boys. It pissed off the other parents and traumatized the girls because by far our favorite target for explosive destruction was... Barbie.

Skipper too.

Everyone raided their sister's Barbie collections and in the days leading up to the Fourth the street looked like a scene out of "Platoon"; singed Barbie limbs littering the gutters. And the occasional head. The heads usually flew the farthest and were gone for good.

The highlight of every Fourth was a fireworks extravaganza put on by a scary man who lived down the street. He was a colleague of my father's and taught chemistry. He was a "confirmed bachelor" and lived with his mother. Years later when I saw "Psycho" for the first time, I thought of him. He'd converted his garage into an industrial workshop, like a serial killer. He had an unhealthy obsession with fireworks and spent the entire year building elaborate Rube Goldberg contraptions to display them.

On the morning of the Fourth he'd wheel out his creations and spend the entire day maniacally rigging them with explosives. As night fell, the neighbors all gathered, the kids with uncontained excitement, the parents with a good deal of trepidation. As showtime approached, he'd emerge from his house with his mother. This would be the only time you saw her all year.

Finally, with a flourish, he'd light the first pinwheel. It would set off a chain reaction, like a game of Mousetrap, each firework triggering the next for 20 or 30 minutes. It was ingenious. It was a beyond spectacular.

Everyone went home happy and reeking of sulfur.

I understand the safety concerns that have led to so many places banning fireworks, but I have to admit the Fourth just isn't quite the same without them. I'm actually happy there are still places like Bakersfield, where True Patriots still cherish their God given right to put out an eye, blow off a finger or torch a neighbor's house in the name of American Freedom.

Sadly, we won't be here for the pyromania. We plan to be away that weekend looking for a new place to live.

Someplace a little safer. And saner.

Random Good Things About Bako #7

I haven't done one of these in awhile, and it hasn't been for lack of trying. Suffice it to say the pickens' are slim. But here ya go:

Random Good Things About Bako #7: Sunshine in June

Living in Southern California one of the depressing aspects of life you just have to deal with is June Gloom, the cold, clammy marine layer that always seemed to settle in around Memorial Day and last until the 4th of July. Making matters worse, it usually moved in after a beautiful warm Spring, with visions of pool parties and days at the beach dancing in your head. While the rest of the country started breaking out the flip flops and shorts, you'd be back in the closet digging out the sweaters.

In recent years it seemed to start earlier and earlier, becoming May Grey, and it often stretched into July and August. People can debate whether or not it's related to climate change and global warming. People outside of Bako. In Bako, neither of those two phenomenon exist. They're just myths cooked up by radical environmentalists in a plot to take away our guns. Or something. Honestly, I can't make heads or tails out of most of what these people say.

I hadn't really thought about it until our weekend visit to Orange County. After a couple of beautiful days I woke up on Memorial Day to a cold, dank morning. June Gloom, right on schedule.

But no such concerns here. The same coastal mountains that block out rain and civilization also prevent the marine layer from encroaching on this barren valley. So it's nothing but sun, sun, sun, and the temperatures that go with it. And at dusk, when a slight wind kicks up all the dust from the fallow fields to the west, it makes for a lovely rosy sunset.

Random Good Things About Bako #6

Surprisingly enough... Downtown Bako is actually pretty cool.

Or at least it once was.

Now it's a ghost town, a boarded up wasteland of junkies, drunks and transients. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to take a little walking tour lugging a big digital camera. But there's a lot of potential there, if only the locals realized it. There are a few urban pioneers scattered about, but without a critical mass and some foot traffic it's going to be an uphill struggle.

But never say never. When I was in college in Pasadena, the Old Town area was in far, far worse shape. The city used to have to fence it off, tarp it over, and try and dress it up with bunting for the Rose Parade, lest a national TV audience see how derelict and shabby it really was. But now it's a thriving shopping area and it's bustling every night of the week.

So, you never know. Maybe one day Bako will figure out they have a little unpolished gem downtown.

Random Good Things About Bako #4

Spring is Spring, no matter where you are. And the first signs are always hopeful.

Even in Bako.

Random Good Things About Bako #3

Trains. And more specifically train whistles.

I've always been fascinated with trains and as a kid had one of the most elaborate train sets you've ever seen. The train ran through my hometown and I loved the sound of the horns and whistles in the distance.

So it was a pleasant surprise to discover them here. Bako is crisscrossed with train tracks running in every which way. Every way but south, sadly - the only track crossing the Tehachapis to LA and points south is reserved for freight.

But still, there's something reassuring about hearing the plaintive wail of the train whistles late at night, or early in the morning through the fog.

Takes me back.