Edmonds Through the Back Door.

I went to Edmonds, Washington for the day to hear Rick Steves do some travel lectures. Packed house, with tons of people taking notes as he spoke. Couldn't believe it when I bumped into him on the street later in the day. Nice guy and he graciously snapped a photo for me.


Here's his new Italian phrase book & dictionary with Vespa on the cover

If you're ever in Edmonds, you should definitely go to the Edmonds Historical Musuem.

The first floor is currently housing a collection of residents' playthings.
I loved the wall of cameras.

In the basement, there is a huge assortment of historical collections-everything from washing machines, typewriters, switchboards to nautical dodads.

A Hot Rod Christmas

Bumpstart friend and contributor, Al Drake has added a new book to the Flat Out Press Catalog.

Christmas at Ed's Richfield (and Other Stories for Guys) is a collection of stories that recall memories of childhood Christmases during World War II, to the teen years in the 50's, and holidays with children and grandchildren.

Here's an excerpt from Christmas at Ed's Richfield:
I got to Ed’s Richfield shortly after dinner, and I was surprised none of the guys were around. It was already dark, and I was thinking about the impossibility of snow at Christmas, just two days away. It never snowed in Portland at Christmas, but my mother, who was from North Dakota, yearned for snow. It was just not Christmas without snow, she always said. She had a small glass globe with a farm scene, and when she shook it white flakes appeared in the solution to remind her of what she had left behind. Now, as I got out of my car, I noticed that the air had a metallic sharpness, but it was too warm for snow, almost as if the weather hovered between seasons.

I had expected some of the guys to be at the station as well as a bunch of customers, people out Christmas shopping, but the place was empty. From the office Ed saw me pull up and he waddled out the door to his car, calling over his shoulder, “Guide me on the rack.” Less than a month earlier he had traded his pristine ’53 Mercury in on a new ’55 Mercury Monterey hardtop, charcoal and salmon. As Ed backed the car up and maneuvered it into the building, the salmon paint glowed pink under the station’s fluorescent lights. I gestured him forward, guiding him onto the lube rack, although I wasn’t sure he needed help. It was typical of Ed, giving me something to do. I worked in a garage all day, but had to take a second job nights and weekends and Ed was good enough to let me work about 20 hours a week. I hoped that, with the extra money, I could buy some Christmas presents for my mother and sister.

Pick up a copy for your dad or favorite grease monkey here.