For the record: he's back!

Let's hope this is the last post about Big Johnson, our local muffler man. I had word two days ago from Dagny that he was in process of being re-erected. Today, friends Patty & Bob took me over to Fair Street for a final check. Note that the hat is back, that he has the initials BJ on his shirt pocket and no hat band. Just like before. BJ dates from the mid-60s, created as a promotion for Phillips 66 gas stations in Northern Arizona; his local owners, Darl & Janeth Johnson, acquired him in 1973, according to a recent story in The Courier.

Not to change the subject -- but it's time to change the subject. Let's start off with my neighbor's huge collection of tulips, just beginning to bloom.

Notes: Muffler Man, Redoubt, Anonymity

Sorry. I got caught up in combing through my photo file looking for interesting fences, the time passed as it will, and it's much to late to open PhotoShop for a session. So: links and notes.

#1 -- The Courier discovered the missing Muffler Man, whom they are calling Big Johnson. Good details about his history -- plus a picture of the cowboy hat.

#2 -- Inasmuch as the dotter is up in Alaska in the Mt. Redoubt volcano territory, I've been following the eruptions. The Alaska Volcano Observatory has a set of fine photos, the best being the night shots with lightening dancing around the peak and the ash column.

#3 -- A blog controversy has erupted up in that cold, northern territory, too, having to do with anonymous political commentary -- and a local politician outing the offending blogger. The dotter gives one account, incidentally explaining her reasons for blogging anonymously; the blogger tells her story as well. Many of my readers may not agree with the politics of the people involved; on the other hand, having lived in a world (Chicago) where complex local ordinances are designed to make almost any ordinary property-owning citizen a potential law breaker, I can understand the desire to keep one's profile low. (BTW, the federal IRS rules & regulations would appear to be closing in on the Chicago standard, to judge from recent shenanigans in DC.)

Maintenance -- not missing!

So friends Patty and Bob were ferrying me down Hillside on the way to the True Value for hose timers (I'm prone to forgetting that the water's on). As we approached Miller Valley, Bob asked Patty to turn around and head back the other way. "Something I want you to see."

We wound up at Brackman's, the paint & body repair shop. And here's what was in one of the bays (above). After I hopped out of the car, trying to get a picture of OUR OWN MUFFLER MAN, this crotch shot (below) was the best I could do, he's so big.

But Prescott people are kind, decent folk who quite happily volunteer to roll huge 20 ft. figures outside so a granny-aged photographer can get a better shot. The head (below).


More of his body (above) and a full length shot (below).

And I got the story: one of his legs was broken when a driver ran into him. He was moved to the body shop for a repair job -- plus shiny new shoes, pants, shirt and skin. His features come next. What an adventure! But I am feeling somewhat abashed, having behaved the other day like Aesop's little boy who shouted "Wolf!"

Tall Figures -- Solid & Ephemeral

These two guys have been sitting in a "to do" folder, waiting for a third, long enough! BJ, above, is reminiscent of an earlier day in the life of Prescott, back when the local & rural louts longed to be cowboys, not rap stars. Don't know how long he's stared down Fair Street, but I've lived here over 20 years...

This fellow, on the other hand, was swaying in the wind when I caught him as my friend and I drove by. He wasn't very substantial that day and he had disappeared by the next week. Omen of a coming deflation, possibly?