Pimp My Go-Cart

There are a few things that never cease to amaze me here on the Ttown porch. 1. The massive amount of traffic my street sees regardless of the fact it isn't a cross street to anything. 2. The variety of people in my neighborhood -- blacks, whites, latinos, young, old, rednecks, pimps, and crazies. The following is a perfect illustration of the diversity:

We hear the familiar lawn-moweresque roar of the home-made go-cart. Sure enough, it comes tearing down Balkin turning haphazardly onto Westland and then off and around the corner. On the contraption for the first lap is a 40 something year old man with a mullet, trucker hat, and open can of Budweiser. He makes several laps before giving the reigns to his eight year old child. Now you may think that allowing an eight-year-old to take a homemade go-cart down a city street might suggest a disregard for the child's safety but rest assured, dad is perched on the back still holding his beer. As the kid zooms around the corner, he doesn't even spill a drop. The Balkin 500 lasts about a half an hour. I am pretty sure the tank only holds 30 minutes of gas.

Shortly after the end of the race a gentleman pulls up in front of a house down the way. It's a 1980s Rivera all shiny and chromed. The owner jumps out to welcome the many accolades being bestowed on his fine automobile. The praise is so loud it raises the low-rider, hydraulic -master himself. He strolls past his wife who has been toiling in the lawn most of the day and rounds the Rivera, taking it all in and granting bits of wisdom about cars that get the babes. After several minutes of "car talk" the owner gets in his ride and leaves. The hoopty owner returns to his home (while his wife tirelessly works in the yard) assured that his ride is still the flyest, and the passersby go back to whatever they were doing.

Yep, these are the people in my neighborhood.