Hecho en Clarksville
When it comes down to it, the rent here is a bit absurd. It’s not downtown, hell it;s not even Manhattan absurd, but to the Scottish Presbyterian side of me, it pains me to write that rent check every month.
At the same time its worth it. Normally post-work, when not cooked here, is obtained by bicycle. Tonight, having experienced the aforementioned epic bike fail at the regular Thursday night Driveway Crit (yeah, I was hanging with he juniors, the girls and the old guys -yeah, I rock), the thought of putting my hindquarters on a bike seat again seemed quite unappealing, so i elected to walk.
Living in a pedestrian neighborhood, where you can stroll to restaurants, and the local grocery without succumbing to the modern wonder of motorized transport, you see a lot. The newest pair of shoes thrown over the power lines, the teenagers making-out in the beater truck on the corner of 12th (ah, young love), the metal pac-man face hanging on one of the utility poles, the random dog chilling on the corner enjoying a beautiful Texas evening, while the newly reilluminated moontower slowly takes over lighting duties from the big ball of hydrogen that’s slowly fading off towards the western hills. These are the things that use to make a city a city before the days of interstates, and Loop highways. We miss a lot careening around in the giant metal boxes, the little bits and pieces that make a place worth living, worth talking about, and most importantly, worth giving a damn about.
And yeah, the rent is worth it.