Friday, April 10, 2020

What a Long Strange Trip it's Been

I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari... and then.... the whole shebang just ended right there folks.  (That's for those of you that know the song "Willing" and our attempt to hit all four towns in it, along with a corner in Winslow, Arizona.) Ahhh, the plans of mice and men.  When we last left you, we were on an extended road trip out West, having made the decision not to go to Italy...  because everything was on lockdown over there.

So we decided to head out West, and of course, as we traveled farther from Florida, the world slowly changed and ultimately drew to a crawl.  So we lined up a very nice little casita in the desert mountains of the Oro Valley in Arizona to ride things out. 
Before hiding out though, we made an obligatory stop in Tombstone for another Boo Radley Tee shirt sighting photo op, but then off to the desert we ran.

The place was perfect, isolated with great wildlife, hiking and biking.  The mornings were graced by bunnies and birds playfully scavenging their days intake ignoring the humans intruding on their world.  As my mind works, the thought that perhaps these furry and feathered friends would one day be our future meals flittered in and out of my mind's imagery.  I do like rabbit.  I recalled conversations with my Grandmother explaining why they came to America, and more so why there were no pigeons in Southern Italy.  But in that moment the bunnies and birds would continue their playful antics as we stocked up on food, beer, wine, scotch, gas, beer, wine and scotch.  We even scored an abundance of toilet paper.  As far as isolation, we were pretty much set to ride things out.

But as all good things come to an end, within days we saw the writing on the wall, and began to fear the US domestic lock down coming soon.  We were in a good place, yet everything we owned was in our storage bay in Tallahassee.   This included all my affectionately named "End of Times" gear.  Yes, it is true, I have been expecting the end of times since 2008, and also have lived in the Keys through many hurricanes, as well as Michael in Apalachicola, and had always been well versed in the ways of preparation regardless of the current emergency.  However, at this point in time, all of my EOT preparedness was back east in a storage bay.

Admittedly, I had with me my rudimentary Colloidal Silver manufacturing kit, (Don't leave home without it!) but there was soooooo much more I needed to be adequately prepared for that was about to unfold.  I could see it coming in the crystal blue sky, I could feel it in the dry desert breeze, I could taste it with each gentle sip of single malt I rolled over my tongue.  At the time everyone was focused on the Spring Breakers in St. Pete, and there was talk of closing beaches.  It was also around the time that so many politicians were assuring us that there would not be domestic travel restrictions.

In my short Libertarian influenced life, one thing I could always count on.... if the Government says they aren't intending to do something... wait a week.  Or if they tell you something is temporary like the Income Tax, or Highway tolls.... well, you get the point.

The decision was made (none too lightly) to leave our pristine little bungalow in the isolated desert, and boogie back east.  We loaded up in a flash and made the bee line back for Florida.  Our good friends Janine and Kathy offered us the use of their house, and our other friends the Woodducks suggested we park a camper in their compound.  We oddly had sold our beloved 1991 Toyota Dolphin just as we were expecting to board a plane for Sicily, yet even more odderer, we had run into our friend Mark Friedman in Tallahassee as we were packing our things into storage in January.  He owned a beautiful, almost new travel trailer directly adjacent to our storage bay and had mentioned off the cuff that he was selling it.  What did we care at the time, as we were off for Italy?!?!  Right?

So, due to the fact that since that moment our life feels like the following, I will now make an attempt at the longest run on sentence in the history of odd blogs in the end of times.... hang on!

We drove straight back from Arizona being careful to use hand wipes and latex gloves at gas pumps, stopping briefly in mid Texas to price RVs and of course to stand on Main Street across from Mr. Blues in Robert Earl Keene's home town, as we heard about my old job opening up on the Naval Air Station in Key West, and arrived at Janine and Kathy's for a night or two, met Mark in Tally and bought his RV and loaded up all our End Of Times (EOT) gear and headed back to Woodducks' where we enjoyed his well prepped compound, ran crawfish traps and ate luxuriously of wild game, applied for my old job at the Naval Air Station, took the RV to a nice place in Crystal River, got the job, and we are now waiting for an Easter Sunday entry into the Keys where we have a slot reserved at Geiger Key Marina and I plan to start work April 24th at Naval Air Station Key West.

And that... is all she wrote, whoever she is.

Regardless, it's not all I will write... there is more to come, a lot more.  The rest of the Bowery Station story, a new format to share our musicians' music in a virtual BS setting, pictures of Lisa not working while Matt slaves away over a hot computer... there will be a lot more to come, yes indeed.

Stay tuned, stay safe and be well one and all!!

Thursday, March 19, 2020

Is it the End of Times... Gardi gets cut off in an upscale pizza joint!!

As many of you that have known me throughout the years, back in 2008 during the financial crisis I was calling for the end of times.  EOT 2008!  Well, little did I know that the train wreck would be in slow motion.... very slow motion.  Over the last few years I have come to realize that the transition from normalcy to a different type of "times" is truly an evolution that will in fact take much longer than what I had thought.

Well, I have now begun to rethink that, after a little experience as we have headed west.  Maybe is now once again... the End Of Times!

When we last left you, we were driving west from Cadillac Ranch, things were getting dark, both in weather, and in the social mood we were experiencing.  We tried a shot at driving the old Route 66 and we stopped in Tucumcari, simply because we were willin', and continued on.  We enjoyed the scenic drive west as clouds cleared and we took a turn north for Santa Fe.  What a terrific scene we were greeted with as we crested a hill and began to climb the hills towards the adobe clad town of Santa Fe.  The sun was baking the car, so as we climbed we were unaware of the actual outside temperature.  Suddenly, at one point, we crested a hill and we were driving in some foreign white mushy substance.  Even I, having been raised in Vermont was baffled.  Had a truck dumped some strange cargo of soap or something?  Hell no!  It seems I have been living in Florida too long, we were driving in snow on the road, and it was melting in the sun!!!  Fortunately it was a short distance, but it made us cognizant of the fact we were at about 7,000 ft, and the air temp was hovering just around 35 degrees.  Ugh!

So we grabbed a hotel and bundled up, walking into the Santa Fe square for dinner and a few drinks.  The town was quite...very quite.  It seemed we were some of the only people walking around town, and the ominous mood that had begun to eclipse most folk's energy had found it's way to Santa Fe as well.

We found a small, upscale little restaurant/bar that served pizzas and sat down at the bar.  Still being full from my tussle with that morning's Chicken Fried Steak in Lubbock, we simply ordered some beers and settled in.  After a few rounds over a couple of hours we finally decided to try one of their signature wood fired pizzas.  The pizza arrived... pepperoni, calamata olives and garlic.  It smelled wonderful.  I thought to myself that it would go well with a dry red wine, and I glanced at my almost empty draft on the bar.  Swigging it back, I kindly asked the barkeep for a house cab. 

Well, welcome to New Mexico!  The bartender sheepishly stated..."I'm sorry sir, but we have a house limit on drinks, 3 without food, and 4 with food, and unfortunately that last draft was your fourth drink."  I looked at the pizza... which along with my taste buds really was calling for a Chianti, and I looked at my empty beer.  My life quickly flashed before my eyes, most of it viewed (Not proudly) through the bottom of a pint glass and I recalled that on many occasions I had consumed four beers before dawn had even broken, I recalled crawling out a window in Physics lab in High School and knocking back a six pack before the end of the period, I recalled doing a power hour (a shot of beer a minute for an hour) before going out in the Keys, I recalled many nights at Bowery Station during the course of a fourteen hour work day consuming at least a couple of beers an hour (again, not with pride)...and I gazed at this young bartender.  I am sure he was a master at the newly evolving "Craft Cocktail" scene.  But was this cat for real??  After a day of sober driving, I had not even gotten the blood in my alcohol down to respectable levels... ultimately I enjoyed the pizza with water. 

We left the pizza joint and went to another empty bar that actually had a band playing.  There was no one in the place, there was no one on the street.  The bouncer asked for a $5 cover.  Now don't get me wrong, we will always support live music to the greatest extent possible, and initially we had dabbled in a few paid shows at Bowery Station, but ultimately we had fallen on the side of our hometown bar in VT, Nectar's.... never a cover.  Pay the band reasonably, and open your doors, win or lose. (Trust me, some nights you lose!)  It may not have been the most profitable method as a bar owner, but in the end I think it made for a much more enjoyable atmosphere, for the venue, for the band, and ultimately for the crowd.  Admittedly I can envision a rare time and a place for a cover...or in bigger markets with big acts...  but on a dead night, with no crowd milling around town.... come on, suck it up and get a few folks in for the band and accept that you might lose a few bucks on some nights if you are truly a music venue.  Rest assured, as consumers we would have far exceeded $5 net on our drinks. 

We left and headed down the street and walked into another bar.  There were maybe twenty people at the bar, we walked up to the bar and painfully watched the poor bartender in the weeds with a few mixed drinks.  After waiting about 10 minutes without even as much as a hello... it was back to the hotel.... and to think with only four beers in my belly.  That truly must be a record.... things would get better tomorrow.  But would they......times were getting dark.... 

Wednesday, March 18, 2020

The Slow Southwest Slide into Seclusion

Well folks, I am sure we have all gathered plenty of tales in these last few days, and what seems like an exponential scale of reaction and adjustment.  Sometimes it seems like the script is coming right off the pages of Atlas Shrugged, with a few minor adjustments.  The motor of the world is slowly coming to a creeping halt.  Who is John Galt?

So how did we get here in such a short time?  Here, in our physical location bunkered down in a casita in the desert hills north of Tuscon, and also here as a nation and a world... it all seems surreal.

Heading back to our recent travels....we headed northwest out of the Austin area, did some touch and goes in some small towns such as Abilene and Dublin.  Dublin, being the home of the original "Dublin Dr. Pepper," the original Dr. Pepper.  Dublin was now almost a ghost town, but as we learned later through a great documentary "The Battle Over Dublin Dr. Pepper," the town was once a bustling hub even as recently as 20111.  But the crush was put on the good guys by corporate, and even some small town politics.  If you get a chance, I highly recommend the short movie as it displays the challenges of hardworking, productive Americans, and how so many will work against that kind of success... even at their own expense.  Again, I am forced to consider why so many that benefit from the golden goose, would in turn want to destroy it.

At the end of the day we rolled into Lubbock, the home of Mac Davis, and Buddy Holly.  It seemed to be mostly a college town with a small downtown social scene.  So we put our baseball caps on backwards, grabbed our fake IDs and went out to hit it hard.  So not much was going on at 7pm... but we hung in there till at least 10pm, wondering around an assortment of bars, most just having their signature shot or shooter.  As we wondered around we also began to think about food, and found in the midst of all these college kids there was only one small barbecue food truck. 

Heading into one bar (whose signature shot was pickle juice and tequila...and yes, we indulged) we asked the bouncer about where to eat.  So he says, "All there is is that one barbecue truck, and to be honest, it ain't that good."  What, a college town, with kids out drinking, and no late night bar food?!?!

Well, as you know from some of our historic posts about The Bowery Station Story, we have always been ones that look for opportunity, and man, let me just say... here was one.  This was such a no brainer that we almost found an apartment and dug in.  But alas, we must continue on, there was more to see.  We had nothing to eat, enjoyed a fairly decent band reminiscent of Six String South from our neck of the woods, and packed it in early (compared to the kids that were just coming out!) with empty stomachs. 

But alas, we made up for empty stomachs the night before with a small breakfast in the morning... just a small plate of chicken fried steak smothered in sausage gravy, eggs, hashbrowns, and toast.  We were off for points west, and wouldn't need to eat for days after that breakfast.

We rolled out of town, geared up for Amarillo and Route 66... but it was now that we began to hear the rumblings of hard times, the scarcity of toilet paper, everywhere we went you could feel the anxiety of folks as they went about their daily lives... the times they were a changin'.

We stopped in Amarillo at The Big Texan Steak Ranch... the home of the 72 Ounce steak.... you eat the whole thing, it's free.  But having just had the 71 ounce chicken fried steak... I opted not to compete.  Although, for those of you that know my eating prowess, you can imagine how much I wanted a shot at the title.  But things were glum, the day was rainy and dreary and it met the mood of the people stopping at the ranch... people were giving "social distance," mothers told their children not to play with the guns in the shooting gallery that would make the piano player kick in... anyone offering a slight sniffle from the damp cold air would turn heads and make people scurry. 

Westward Ho, we stopped at Cadillac Ranch, a relic of artist from the 70s just west of Amarillo.  They had buried a line of Caddys in the middle of a cow pasture, and over time they had become so graffitied that that became the meme of the meca.  We parked and
worked our way out through the muddy pasture, dodging cow paddies along the way.  I was brought back to my childhood in Vermont, although I sure longed for my shitkickers, versus my stylish Chuck Taylors.

After our foray into the cow pasture, I was determined to drive the true Route 66.  Interstate 40 had pretty much been built on top of the old road, but with a little research I was able to get off the highway and find the old 66 that ran parallel to the new Highway.  At first the road seemed a bit deserted, and the pavement was well on it's way to crumbling.  But sights along the way were amazing, old gas stations and motels, decayed with time lined the old road.  Gone were the filling stations and drive up burger joints... this essence of americana was gone.

But just as we were settling into a bumpy slow ride, we crested a hill, and alas it would just be too much for our liking.  Nothing but red muddy dirt!  Thus was our end of the road, and we turned back
and took the softy Highway 40.  Although, the two occasionally entwined through small little towns such as Tucumcari.  The 66 local routes through these small towns had seemed to be lost in time, but also in decay.  Seems as is so many places, when they built the big Highway around town, the small Mom and Pops seemed to have dried up, and alas, some more character evaporated into the beltways, strip malls and chain hotels.

In one town at one point we did witness a sign...$1.39 for a gallon of gas... something was definitely afoot.  I had been following the oil prices and OPEC/Russia issues, and been watching the volatility of all our markets... but $1.39/gallon.  Something big was happening in the world we know and the change was just starting to rear it's ugly head....on we drove....

Our last few days in Texas Hill Country... before the SHTF!

We hope this post finds everyone safe and secure and as prepared as possible for what may lie ahead.  When we last left everyone we were taking off from Texas and moving west, things were relatively normal... relatively.  My how things have changed quickly for everyone.  But for a seriously Readers Digest condensed version of our last few days in the San Antonio/Austin Hill Country region... see below.

We spent our last few days in the Texas hill country by taking in shows at Gruene Hall...

Chasing down a few honkytonks in Austin...(who doesn't love those BS bars)

Hitting San Antonio to see The Alamo...

and the riverwalk... of course.

We took in some hiking in a cute little town called Wimberly, and before we left New Breunfels I had the opportunity to play an Open Mic at the Phoenix Saloon.  I reestablished the Brian Bowen "Salt in the Blood" Tour which folks seemed to really dig.  (Despite my terrible rendition.)

But as all good things must come to an end, we began the trip west, heading for Lubbock next!  From this point on, the trip slowly began to take on an ominous foreboding as news and events changed.  The weight of decisions we would be forced to make, and the mood of folks on the road began to change as restrictions quickly shocked the nation and thus made for an interesting few days.  More to come soon....

Saturday, March 14, 2020


Admittedly we have fallen behind on our posts from the road, but it primarily is because we have been doing a lot of exploring with quick stops and a lot of miles under the wheels.  We will catch up soon when we settle into the Arizona desert for a 10 day respite from the road. And just during the day yesterday I literally was warped by the rain, driven by the snow and bent by the wind....

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

New Braunfels, Texas....Man what a find!

So, we were looking for a single place in the Texas hill country from which to do day trips from, throughout the region.  Lisa's Uncle Bob said to check out this place called New Braunfels, it being an historically German town with character and close to everything.

Man, this was not a disappointment!  Let's just talk about our arrival.  We roll right down the main drag, turn a half block off and park the truck.  Right in front of a huge German beer hall named
Krause's.  We walk in, call for some dunkel and low and behold they are having a huge event as well... Armadillo racing!  (Now that's original!)  The place was packed and everyone was enjoying themselves, so we signed up for a five day stint at a very reasonably priced hotel.

So, we head out that night to a reputable chili bar with live music, called Phoenix Saloon.  As the band was setting up, Lisa recognizes the lead singer as someone that has played the BS stage.  Indeed it
was.  Season Ammons was a phenomenal female vocalist that played as part of the duo The Wide Open a couple of times at Bowery Station.  It was great to see her and catch up, and she explained that this is her home turf and it is all really geared towards original live music, then she put on a fantastic show.  Needless to say, we enjoyed the music, lots of beer, and some of the best chili we have ever had.

The next day we returned to the Krause Beerhall and they were
hosting weiner dogs races...again another fun afternoon at a very cool German Beerhall.

The next day we were off on a day trip to Fredericksburg and Luckenbach!  Fredericksburg was another quaint historically German town with great stores cafes and restaurants.  Then onto Luckenbach and some great live music in an old barn.  The place is very old school and we caught it on a slow day which was enjoyable to be able to browse the grounds without a million people.

More to follow about some additional day trips to San Antonio, San Marcos and Wimberley, and our soon to come voyage into Austin.... all within a 30 minute drive.  But now I am off to play Open Mic at the Phoenix Saloon... here is to hoping it is not tomato season!

Monday, March 9, 2020

Verse 6 - The Big Move to Apalachicola

This post is a continuation of The Bowery Station Story.

Well this verse should really be titled "The move to St. George Island, but good luck finding a long term rental on the Island, so why don't you get to know Apalach... and ultimately discover.... what's missing there!" But that is a long title for a Verse.. or Chapter or what have you.

So, after over a decade in the Keys, and with the reality of how time passes by so quickly, we were growing anxious for some more adventure.  While the weather and water of the Island chain of the American Caribbean can not be beat... we had this growing anxiety to do more with our lives as the sands of the hourglass of life were quickly showing more on the bottom half...along with our own growing bottom halves...or expanding guts...etc.

Lisa had a unique opportunity.  As a teacher who had worked for more than 10 years in Monroe County, she could leave her job for a year and be guaranteed a job upon return to the Keys.  Kind of like a sabbatical, but without pay.  After having left my job at the Office of the State Attorney on 12/12/12 (at 12:12PM) TRUE! ...and vowing never to work for the man again, I had found myself evolved into the tech world of the new concept of the cloud, and in most cases I could work from anywhere... for the most part.  So together we thought we could take off and travel for a year.  Yeah, just like when we moved back from Europe...right?  There it was, that old "travel for a year" concept again.

We thought St. George Island might be a good place to kind of hunker down on as a base station, and from there enjoy easy trips and exploration of the South East United States and beyond.  So we made a few exploratory trips and quickly found that it was very difficult to find a long term rental on SGI.  I remember speaking with Patrick and Jessica Sparks, who were at the time managing Eddie Teaches, a bar on SGI.  I remember handing Pat my card, suggesting if he heard of a rental to call me.  Looking back on it, I can only imagine what was going through his head as he was looking at these newbie Island wannabees... "Sure buddy, good luck with that!"

Soon however, we found a unique small houseboat in Apalach in a low key marina next to Up the Creek.  We had moved what few belongings we had to a storage bay in Eastpoint and settled in to do nothing.  Well, as it turns out, that is exactly what we did... for a short while.  It was nice at first... nothing to do, watching the backside of a sunset over
the river, fishing from our back porch, and biking and walking around this sleepy little hamlet that was Apalachicola in 2013.

There were a few bars, but nothing that really could match what we had become accustomed to in the Keys, and previously in Vermont.  We had run a lot of businesses in our day, and most of them were inspired by when we personally felt there was a need for something that did not currently exist.... and as we wondered around town, our yearning was clearly for a casual bar ...with some good live music.

We would ponder aloud... man this place would be awesome if there was a Schooner Wharf, or Green Parrot, or Nectar's!  Days turned to weeks, and we continually found ourselves wondering by a small building on the corner of Avenue F and Water St.  It was a portion of the historic Wefing's Marine building and had a For Rent sign in the window.  Way in the back was a patio, and an over grown lot with junk and debris piled high.  We began to envision perhaps a Tiki hut in the lot, maybe a singer/songwriter on a small stage... hey yeah, that'd be cool.  That would be real cool... this place needed something like that....yeah, that's the ticket.....

Stay tuned as The Bowery Station Story unfolds in it's next episode...As Boredom sets in...a void begs to be filled with BS!?

Sunday, March 8, 2020

South San Padre Island... quick in and out!

Well... that's what she said! So we had to see the southernmost point in Texas, and rolled into South San Padre Island.  High rise condos on a marginal beach, almost didn't even stay for the night after watching a horrific cowboy doing pretty much karaoke posing as live music.  To his credit he sangwell, but for goodness sake kill the back up electronics.  But there was redemption as we strolled to the bayside and found a bar called Longboards on the water, the center of a nice hub of bayside bars and restaurants. 
The view was nice, the food was great, prices fair, great Margaritas, and to our enjoyment, the band, the Emelio Trio was awesome.  A great mix of Texas, Mexican, a little cajun, and old Beatles and all very talented musicians, and a way talented drummer with great feel!
After the show we were treated to a very dynamic drag show.... almost felt like back in the Key West days...almost.  Regardless, we rolled out to the hill country.  Stay tuned.

Saturday, March 7, 2020

Port A... As Always Awesome And Amazing

Port Aransas... the beachside of Corpus Christi was a nice enjoyable three day stopover.  We had been here about 10 years ago, and knew that it had suffered immensely from Hurricane Harvey back in 2017.  It was good to see the small beach hamlet had recovered well, still providing an assortment of fun Dive bars and great restaurants. 
However, as in so many places you could see the slow and steady creep of gentrification and hear the rumblings of locals as the primpy condos and stuffy restaurants were encroaching on the old haunts.  Still, one would believe the character will hold on for years to come....hopefully.  It always baffles me when authentic character makes a place popular, and that attracts the gentrifiers.... and the first thing they do is destroy the character and they make it like anywhere USA. 

Here you can drive on the beach for miles and miles and always find a desolate place to chill out and catch some rays, drink some beers... in cans of course...or fish from shore.

Check out La Playa for some amazing Mexican food, real sliced steak on the nachos, a great assortment of Enchiladas, and of course Margaritas!

While the local music scene left just a touch to be desired, it was authentic, local and real, and not hard to find a soloist or band at one of the bars.  Always a fun stop for us, but South we head next for South San Padre Island and..... SPRING BREAK 2020!!

Thursday, March 5, 2020

Verse 5 - Where in the World is Apalachicola?

This post is a continuation of The Bowery Station Story.

Lisa and I would get the chance to travel once in a while from Key West, and one of our favorite destinations was New Orleans.  On one trip back from New Orleans, a friend of ours, Rob Taylor, suggested we stop in the small town called Apalachicola.  He and his wife Meghan had sailed a catamaran from Houston to Key West when they moved there.   They let us know that it was really off the beaten path and not that easy to get to, (Well, that rang a bell instantly) and had a great natural beauty with fantastic beaches nearby.  So, on our way back to Key West from New Orleans we tooled our VW Eurovan named Franky into Apalach one summer eve and found a second heaven.  At the time, the town was smaller than it is today, with very little to do, a small assortment of Oyster bars, and one shrimper filled dive called the Oasis.  We stayed in a dog friendly room at a tiny inn along the river.  The River Inn had an iconic restaurant called Boss Oyster, and a tiny bar known as The Spoonbill, filled with locals and tourists alike.

The old Florida feel it harbored was right up our alley, and after that initial evening we headed out to see what this Island they all spoke of... this St. George Island... was all about.  As we approached in the morning, we imagined the usual Florida coastal experience...maybe some condos, no dogs allowed, no alcohol, no access, no public parking...and on and on.  What a surprise... we pulled up to a beach access, and quickly noticed the poop bags for the pooch, and a sign that glass (Obviously, not excluding a frosty can of beer!).  We look at each other and said..."Beer, Dogs, and no high that's a beach!"

St. George Island, and Apalachicola quickly became our home away from home.  Every Christmas, or perhaps Thanksgiving, we would rent ourselves a house on the beach for a "taste of the cold."  We would make a fire, some Oyster stew and relish in what a beautiful area of the country the Forgotten
Coast was.  Clearly, it had escaped the ravages of development, maintained the character, and prioritized the environment.  Beauty was found in so many ways, from the sunrise, to the estuary,  to the historic buildings of Apalachicola.  What a reprieve the Forgotten Coast was from what the Keys had slowly devolved into, an over developed and gentrified theme park of Island living.  More importantly, it appeared there was no way to get a cruise boat in... yet.

The contrast between Key West and the Forgotten Coast was forced upon us with each year's visit.  We loved the Keys, but Key West itself had become a concrete jungle, a theme park of Island living.  One side had been "cruise boated," the other "gentrified," and the original flavor of when we had originally visited as kids, and subsequently had moved there for, had slowly eroded like a sand castle in the tide.  Granted we had found the solace and serenity of some of the lower Keys just up from Key West, but the cost to maintain an average lifestyle came with a huge toll.  Our jobs paid well, but it was barely enough to get by.  We enjoyed every day, but with time, we were always reminded we were not getting ahead relative to other friends our age throughout the Country.  It was a great lifestyle down in the Keys, but ultimately it was almost impossible to save a dime.

Stay tuned as The Bowery Station Story unfolds in it's next episode...The Big Move to Apalachicola?