Wavecrest Woodie Meet

An Essay:  Wavecrest Woodie Meet

They sat about together or stood in nearby clusters, discussing a prized possession or a remembrance of how it used to be.  The grayed haired men, most sporting glasses leaned in as their hearing wasn’t what it once was as they described an event or a function of their hobbies or fascinations.  Their eyes twinkled with by-gone youth as they savored the moment.  It’s the camaraderie that was clear, as each one had a different take on the same subject. 

The sparse crowds walking through the exhibit seemed mostly middle-aged or older; the occasional youngster held his grandfather’s hand as the wisdom of time tried to explain to the child exactly what he was looking at.  Fascinated by the lines, the style, the color, the grace, and the beauty are all in the eye of the beholder.  If only the child had time and insight to savor what was in front of him.

Some walked by quickly; others slowed a bit, stopped, and reminisced about a memory of the bygone era.  It was all in front of them, built to last, solid, marvels at what man can engineer.  But other than the exhibitors, proud of their possessions, all pushed along past the past then back into the present as they moved on to deal with what they have today.

And the old men stayed, guarding their prized antiques, polishing, shinning, and making sure everything was just right so others could enjoy their goods.  The group of exhibitors had shrunk; there were extra spaces where before someone would be set up, maybe because of lingering COVID concerns or perhaps some of the old guys had passed on or lost interest.  

The men talked about past members of the club, where so-in-so had moved, what had happened to his family, questioning why he didn’t show up to display his prized possession.  Maybe he sold it, maybe the family doesn’t want it, or maybe no one showed an interest in his collection or hobby.   After all, it was his hobby.

So, the Wavecrest Woodie Meet car show in Encinitas, CA this past weekend was more than a club meet or a social event where they gathered with spouses and friends.  It was a time to reflect, to pause, to mark off another year of existence.  Nothing much had changed with their old antique cars: maybe another coat of wax, a tuned engine, or new tires, as the old ones were brittle with age – much like the owners.

But there they were, proudly answering questions of the passer-byers: “What year is this Woodie?”  (A small placard in each windshield supplied the make, year, and model, but some seemed not to notice.)  Or the owner talked details of his restoration with another owner.  One guy has some old parts that he didn’t need anymore; another wanted to sell his car.  Times are getting tough.

But the most apparent was the lack of young owners and not many young spectators.  A couple of skateboarders took advantage of the paved parking lot as they whizzed through; several surfers cut through the display headed to the beach: “Oh, cool.”  “Man that’s rad.”  “Dude… I want one, “was overheard as the young guys passed on by.

The new generation isn’t much interested in car ownership; they are way too expensive to own, a tank of gas costs more than they earn, and many put off getting their driver’s license, opting for ride-sharing to get about.  The Z’s and X’rs use computers and joysticks, not wrenches and screwdrivers.  Most have never changed the oil, let alone changed a tire.  So, the art and knowledge of maintaining an antique car isn’t in their wheelhouse.

Now, the old-timers sat about, with pride in ownership of a gleaming artifact, a symbol of a vital part of their past.  The Woodie struck a chord in their memory; it was more than a cool vehicle to carry a surfboard on top with Beach Boy tunes played on a tinny radio.  It reminded them of the life’s transition:  they couldn’t wait to get a driver’s license – that magical point between youth and manhood, to enjoy the freedom and independence of cruising, and to show off their pride in a machine which turned a head or two. 

But the owners think about the future:  what will they do with their cherished heirloom.  Is there anyone in the family willing to carry on and value the tradition, or is it destined to be like all old artifacts that fade away, only to be remembered occasionally over time.  Maybe the gracious way is to enjoy it in the moment and let the heirs worry about the eventual disposal, after all most don’t value the family heirlooms:  One man’s treasure is another’s junk. 

Through it all, it’s still hard to image a Wavecrest EV (electric vehicle) Meet in the future, showing off an old Tesla, Chevy Bolt, or whatever was the latest fad in EVs during the 2022s.   As it’s currently going, there won’t be any gas available to drive an old Woodie to a Wavecrest Meet!  

 

 

Memorial Weekend

 This is my contribution to Memorial Day this year (2022) as death and carnage piles up across this troubled USA nation.  We used to remember the war dead and their sacrifices, the hurt of those left behind, the eventual healing of the land... till the next war!

But now, it is senseless death and mayhem perpetrated by evil only at war with themselves.  And the death by shootings from the hands of two 18 years, one in Buffalo, NY and Uvalde, TX sear into our conscious as to the evil that surrounds us.

It occurred to me as I watched this spectacle unfold that those who gave their lives in sacrifice for our country didn't do it so non-combatants would lose theirs in such a senseless manner.  

So we now remember these 21 and others, along with those from other wars. 

Night Stalkers

 I live in the typical California urban neighborhood, the homes are about 16 feet apart, separated by a 5 foot, wooden privacy fence.  (I use the word "privacy" loosely.)  Anyway, my neighbor was describing unusual nighttime activity occurring on his back fence, the noise of an unseen animal, and a barely seen figure looming in the dark.  

I have a Stealthcam which I've used on trails around our neighbor and have captured images of deer, coyote, and bobcat in the canyons.  I decided to set up the camera on my fence looking toward the area where my neighborhood has seen and heard the unusual activity.  I wasn't convinced that coyotes or bobcats were lurking about.

I've seen coyotes strutting down the street, oblivious to the humans who have taken over his space.  They've rewards us by killing our small pets; we've lost four cats over twenty years at the teeth of the coyote.  I saw on my Ring camera two of them chase a poor cat to our door then savagely kill it. 

So, after two nights of filming the dark, I checked the SD card and was rewarded:

A bobcat peering into the lens of my Stealthcam.

The bobcat sauntering down the fence line toward my neighbor's residence.

The familiar possum walks the fence.

The ghost of the neighborhood.

Using Film

 

Film… do you remember?  Yeah, film. The stuff encased in a cassette that you put in a camera, expose, and then have it developed in a lab.  Analog, not digital.  You use a camera to take a picture, not a cellphone.  And you have to wait till it is developed to see what you captured. 

I have a number of old film cameras in my collection which I used to use back in the pre-digital days.  They sit on a shelf in my office; a small fridge is stuffed with unexposed film.  I occasionally look at both and think, mmm maybe I should go back to doing some film work.

The other day, I just happened to see a You-tuber discussing using a film camera to make some interesting images.  He was a Noblex panorama camera; a rotating-lens pano camera in both medium format and 35mm models. 

I had a poor-man’s rotating-lens pano camera, a Zenit Horizon 202, 35mm camera which I bought twenty years ago to take wedding photos which would be different than the usual images which were normally given to the bride.  I especially liked the images taken at the beach, the bride’s veil flowing behind as she and her groom strolled the beach.

Shortly after buying the Horizon, digital photography began sweeping the photo world and all the great film cameras were being shelved.  Including all of mine. 

The Horizon has a fixed 28mm f2.8 lens; there is no focus to deal with as it is set to infinity.  This can be a problem if you are shooting a subject close-up.  The only way to deal with minimum focus is to set the aperture at various f-stops which will allow you different depths of field.  F16 will yield a minimum of three feet to infinity focus.   There are six shutter speeds on the camera.  So, it is truly a manual camera.

So early this week I went out with the Horizon, went to the Oceanside, California pier and shot three rolls:  two black and white, one color.  I had the images processed and scanned at North Coast Photographic Services in Carlsbad, CA. 

Several things:  I used a hand-held light meter to make exposure readings to strive for some accuracy.  Remember, there is no digital screen to review your work.  Due to the cost of film and processing, you don’t take “lots of images” of the same subject to get the best one; you find the subject, you decide on composition, and you make the exposure. 

Secondly, the “horizon” must be level if you want a decent image.  There is a bubble level built into the viewfinder to help level the camera.  It really helps your compositions.  (Of course, you can break the rule for a unique image.)  Also, there are some banding issues and artifacts which occur to the film, including some “light leaks,” which can be worked on in Photoshop.

On a roll of 35mm film, if you remember back to those days, you have a rectangle of 24mm x 36mm on the film surface.  With the Horizon pano camera, the image is twice as wide and uses “two rectangles” of space for one image.  (NOTE:  If you have a lab process your film make sure you tell them not to cut it in strips as it may cut through a pano image!!)

I love doing “street photography,” looking a images of ordinary things happening around me.  Here are some samples from my photo shoot (I plan on using the camera more in the next few weeks):

That Umbrella Stand

 

So, last week I was hired to photograph a reception at a local outdoor venue and as is my custom, I arrived early to photograph the place settings, decorations, and any other interesting item that might be messed up by the guests.  Also, it documents the items for the hosts so that they know what they paid for, as often they are busy greeting guests and can’t see all the items and decorations which are at their event.

As I approached a standup table and looked it over to get a good angle and coverage, a laborer walked past me to another standup table and dropped onto the ground a heavy metal umbrella stand with a discernible thud!   I looked at him and thought, “next one he brings, I’m going to photo him…” not for the party but for my portfolio! 

I continued to look over the flower arrangement and made a couple of snaps then decided to move around the table to my left for a different angle.  As I quickly moved around the table, I was suddenly met with a smashing pain in my left lower leg.  I could only see stars, as I stumbled a bit. 

I quickly recovered and looked down at my pant leg which seemed normal:  no tear!  Then I felt my leg, on fire with pain, but no open wound was noted.  I looked around to find out what was the cause of this incident and there it was:  an umbrella stand (without the umbrella).  The heavy metal base with the pipe sticking up about 2 feet was there for me to stumble into.  I continued to soldier on and finished the assignment feeling the burn.

Over the course of the next couple days, the pain was really noticeable, the leg swelled, and the ankle turned black and blue as the blood from internal trauma collected at the lowest part of the leg.  I resisted a doctor’s visit as knocking a shin wasn’t something I hadn’t experienced in the past.

After putting it off for several days, I decided that I would make my way to a “Doc-in-the-Box” which I had used in the past, since they had an X-ray machine:  it would save me money and time, rather than going to the ER room at the hospital.

I arrived the next morning, second patient of the day to have the leg looked at. That was a whole crazy experience:  the lady attending to me whispered that it was her 3^rd day, and she was unfamiliar as to where everything was.  Anyway, the doctor checked me and told me that shin injuries are routine, but he would take an X-ray.      

While waiting for the results – did I mention what a fiasco that was – I heard the doctor say, “Oh, oh…”  I peaked out of the room down the hall and watched him look at the film.  He turned and said, “I think you have a broken leg…”  He requested more images and decided that he could see a fracture in my tibia.  He told me to stay off the leg until the weekend was over and he was referring me to an orthopedic doctor (I had one from all my mountain bike crashes!).  After going through crutches at the office to figure out a set for me – did I mention what a fiasco that was -- I was charged $50 bucks as “insurance won’t pay.”

Later in the afternoon, the doctor called and stated that the radiologist had confirmed that the Xray showed a fracture of the mid-tibia shaft. 

Monday morning as the orthopedic office opened, I called the receptionist:  she had an opening an hour later.  The lady asked me to bring the x-rays and the report.  Of course, I didn’t have one as they told me that they don’t provide a disc, but the doctor’s office could get a link to the radiologist.  The receptionist said, no she couldn’t do it.  So, I had to get a link, print out the report, print the x-ray images and race to the new appointment.  I hobbled into the car and drove myself to the office. 

Finally, the nurse looked at the leg, took vitals, and worked with me to figure out a link to view the x-rays.   After a bit, the Orthopedic doc, who knows me well, came in, sat down, and looked at me.  “Yes,” I thought.  Finally, he shook his head… that wasn’t a reassuring sign.  It turns out it was a moment of disgust, not of sympathy: “You don’t have a broken leg… there is nothing wrong with your tibia,” he said in a matter-of-fact way.  

 

 Come in here, look… oh, you don’t need your crutches he told me as he walked over to the viewing screen.  He showed me that there was no break in the cortical bone tissue.  However, he noted that I had an old fracture which had a significant calcium buildup which may have been misread as a piece of bone. 

“You remember this fracture, right?”  Well, no I don’t.  I broke an ankle or two but never a tibia, fibula, or femur that I was aware.  But there it was on the x-ray; it went untreated in the past.

So, the upshot is:  I walked in a cripple and walked out healed (on paper).  The shin still hurts, the leg is swollen, and the radiologist misread the X-ray.  I own a brand new paid of crutches, slightly used. 

Good thing I waited to cancel my east coast trip for next week till after seeing the Ortho!  Now to get over the pain.