Manny from Heaven:
We get Mo Jack!
I was warned to expect some razzing for towing my art car instead of driving it to Houston. Instead, more than one Caravan member expressed relief at having along "a real car." Burford's van was eventually dubbed the White Courtesy Van, where people could crash as we traveled, listen to trip hop music, or store luggage (except for Daniel's pukey-smelling tent, which went straight into Whip It!'s trunk),
|We stopped at this beautiful art house for an impromptu tour by the daughter of the artist. The caravan invited her to that night's drink & drop party at the ranch/studio where we were spending the night. Burford & I spent fifteen minutes trying to coax the Courtesy Van/Whip It! assembly into a u-turn on the ultranarrow street, finally ending up stuck in the driveway of a guy who looked none too pleased. Happily, he turned out to be a pretty nice guy. Even more happily, he turned out to be a tractor trailer driver, who helped us maneuver out of what looked to be our new permanent home.|
Burford slept fine, so I don't know any excuse for his lapse in judgment: I emerge from the bungalow the next morning to find him having his fingernails painted metallic blue by a caravan member. He looks like Herman Munster. He looks up when he sees me staring. "This nail polish is for men," he assures me. "There's a male symbol on the bottle." Oh. Okay, then.