Once in a great while things click, this was to be one of those nights. What better place to eat, a Mexican restaurant with a car name. My favorite, a '59 "Elki" with the iconic cats-eye tail lights.
As we were lead to our table I could already taste the cold Margarita sliding down my throat, if only in anticipation. Then I noticed the eyes staring at me from the black painting on the wall, as to say, "Be Cool and Enjoy." The painting had been stripped naked of chrome clutter except the 16" five spoke Americans with low profile rubber wrapped around. The amber glow from the lights above highlighted the wood which it adorned. It wasn't a '59, but that was OK.
As hours passed I propped myself up on my elbow and stared at my empty plate and glass, I realized that the food and drink did not let me down. It was as we had become old friends. The El Camino driver nodded with his approval, it was only at that point I caught my breath at the sudden concussion of the sounds of a street band outside.
As Monique and I left the eatery it slapped me in the face, the music was coming from only yards away. As we crossed to the other side of the street to take it in, it reminded me of a night in New Orleans. An impromptu band with a 'saw-blade' cymbal and 'chain-wrapped' foot smashing against a wooden box for percussion was set back off the sidewalk, rocking the bones of everyone that was gathered around.
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