The squeal of tires breaks the lull of a warm, quiet suburban Sunday afternoon, followed by a loud crash! into a telephone pole and, bang! into a street sign before the Bimmer-- hood crumpled-- rolls to a stop off the narrow road and about 50 feet from the intersection.
The two college girls in front are fine but shaken, looking around in disbelief.
"Are you ok?" a jogger slowed down to ask them. "Someone got a cell phone?"
"Yes," they said as they emerged from the car. "What street is this?"
With hope and excitement as palpable as the spring heat rising from the freshly-graded grass amphitheater, the earnest crowd of thousands cheered at Michelle Obama's words of inspiration, she herself having been inspired by their passionate invitation to deliver the commencement address to the first graduating class of the state's newest university.
The woman who came from working class beginnings to become First Lady was welcomed with much anticipation to the farming community that had been settled by immigrants with that very same hope and excitement. Obama's visit is the biggest thing to hit Merced ever, complete with two days of celebration and activities.
The class of 500 worked hard to court Obama as a speaker. She mentioned the creativity and passion with which they campaigned, sending hundreds of letters, emails, videos and 900 valentines.
Quoting american activist Marian Wright Edelman, "service is the rent we pay for living," Obama urged the graduates to give back to their communities. "Remember that you are blessed-- remember that in exchange for those blessings you must give something back." She told the crowd about her experience giving back to her community, founding the first Office of Community Service at the University of Chicago. "You must reach back and pull someone up. You must bend down and let someone else stand on your shoulders so that they can see a brighter future."
"Hold on to the hope that brought you here today, the hope of laborers and immigrants, settlers and slaves, whose blood and sweat built this community and made it possible for you to sit in these seats. There are a lot of people in your lives who know a little something about the power of hope. Look, I know a little something about the power of hope. My husband knows a little something about the power of hope. You are the hope of Merced, and of this nation."
Did the plastic bag explode at you?
Eleven oh five at Walgreen'son "G" Street. The checker smiled at me, a sort of half smile, half grimace as she robotically scanned in objects and piled them into a white plastic taken morosely fom flat, to open.
I wasn't sure I'd heard her right, so I said, excuse me. And then she said it again, did the plastic bag explode at you?
A nervous laugh and back to counting out a dollar from the nickles and dimes in my change purse and put the money on the counter for her. She was about as round as she was tall, dressed in the corporate-issue blue polo shirt, with a loud silver flower necklace lying right between the two collars. After the noisy group ahead of us paid and left the store, not another soul was around.
When do you guys close?
Never. Never, ever ever. We're open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year.
Oh. Good to know.
And then: Yeah, we get holiday pay. Christmas isn't all that great anyway, my family only shows up when they want something. But yeah, this company has a way of making sure if you work a holiday, that you don't get your regular hours the week after, so it's not "extra" money. It's like Disney, I worked for Disney for years and there's all those hotels and the whole park and all that money coming in from all that stuff going on over there you'd think they'd treat their employees well but I got paid $6.40 an hour as an intern. That's like, slave labor. But they're a good company, you know. Donating to March of Dimes and stuff like that.
I squint in the harsh light at the square tag on her right breast. It read, KATIE, and on the line below it, Service Clerk.
But I'm totally into Disney stuff, you know, even though they're a terrible employer and everything.
The three bags of paid-for stuff said quietly on the counter. She had no intentions of letting us go so fast. I'm reading this book right now, she said. Oh! I forgot what it's called, she said, turning and looking off and up at the ceiling before suddenly exclaiming, Fast Food Nation!
I got one for ya, we said to her, Nickeled and Dimed.
Oh, ok, nickels and dimes, got it... she trailed off, and zoned into filtering the next pile of objects and plastic bags.
Today I've come to own a piece of American history: a '92 Schwinn-Paramount Precision Cycle (white with purple slime). The leading custom racing bike of its time, it represents the advancement of the art and science of bicycle design and craftsmanship, and the beginning of globalization as a product of the partnership between bankrupt American bicycle-dominator Schwinn, and Japanese technology-powerhouse Panasonic. Only 580 Paramounts were ever made.
The Merced Antique Mall had featured the Schwinn in its front window all weekend lone, probably due in part to the upcoming Lance Armstrong Tour of California race going through Merced this month. Tagged t 20% off of $480, we bought it for $350-- 20% of its original price the year it was made ($800).
Digging up the details while watching Superbowl all afternoon has been half the fun.
This bike has two different wheels, a welded stem (not original), and lugged steel framein excellent condition. Marked "OS" for "oversize." Schwinn began building Paramounts at the Waterford, Wisconsin plant using True Temper OS tubes in 1989, so the "OS" doesn't necessarily mean they're Panasonic-built bikes.
The 1992 Schwinn catalog shows the "Waterford Road" made from custom-drawn Precision Butted, heat-treated True Temper OS tubing. They were available in designs for road, track, or triathlon with 700C or 26" wheels.
The real tip-offs as to whether a bike is a Waterford Paramount or a Panasonic-built Series Paramount are the "Series" decal. This white-with-purple-slime edition is a Series 5 means it's Japanese-made steel tubing, and increasing in quality in the 2, 3, 5 and 7 Series road bikes using Tange tube sets.
Also, the serial number tells that it's a Paramount Series bike, starting with a number (last digit of year) and then a letter (A-M representing the month), while the Waterford bikes have self-describing serial numbers indicating frame size in mm, "W" for Waterford, and ending with the year.
These are the highest quality, under-the-radar bikes for those in the know.
Marc Muller who was in charge of Paramount production for Schwinn from the 1980 move to Waterford until the 1993 bankruptcy, and is now Richard Schwinn's partner in Waterford Precision Cycles had this to say about the PDG Series Paramounts:
"National/Panasonic were willing and eager partners in this project. I spent a lot of time in their plant, and they at our corporate headquarters, overseeing the smallest details to assure the bikes were worthy of the name. While some of us had reservations about the use of the name, after spending the 80's building up the Schwinn/Paramount/PDG brand, once the decision was made to use the name everyone was on board to make the finest possible bikes at their price point. Are they Waterford Paramounts? No. Are they excellent bicycles? You bet! Don't listen to the bashers, you'll drive yourself crazy!"
Finally, I have a chance to try on those liquid leggings spotted in the the store window months ago.
But alas, she tells me that they're very popular right now, and that there's only a size small and size medium left. Doesn't fit. But I do get a chance to chat up the lovely store owner Kimberly, a slender, dark-haired, 30-something who's wearing a silk floral scarf and faded three-quarter sleeve T-shirt, styled to match the antiquated-industrial of her store. We talk about downtown, and she says, look it's so dead here, with slight sarcasm in her laugh. Then tells me all about the next Art Hop on Saturday, January 24 from four to six. And that they're bringing back Thursday-night farmers market next year, since unruly bathroom-raiders and closing-early store owners put a stop to the food and craft vendors gathered on N Street.
And no, her name is not Tallulah Brigitta though it says so on the card. People call her Tallulah, and think she's from The City when she actually grew up in Livingston but she does like SF and the opportunity to dress how you want there without people thinking and saying you're a freak.
I take a flowery clothing boutique card from the disk on the counter. It's labeled Tallulah Brigitta, with a street address, website and myspace page but not her name, and promise to stop by her store in January if not before.
1 10-foot cargo van.
2 270-mile round trips from SF on $3.91/gallon gas.
3 households ransacked for stuff to pack, transport, and move into the new place.
4 cold and very appreciated Lagunitas IPAs.
5 gigantic grape-flavored Gatorades.
50-minutes unloading the van in 91 degree heat.
55 green rubber steps up to the second floor.
$197.61 spent on a sweltering Friday afternoon, on various groceries at Costco.
$348 spent during Saturday-night closing hour, on miscellaneous household supplies at Target.
Move-in mission accomplished: priceless.
At dusk on Saturday of move-in weekend, the bright neon lights of the Merced Theater began to blink and glow around the marquee (announcing Forest Gump) and its tower, inviting us downstairs from the 90-degree apartment and into an enthusiastic backstage tour of the restoration of this classic single-screen theater.
Joe Feel, the tall man wearing a tan Merced Theater Foundation polo shirt, invited us into the grand lobby with a friendly smile. And while the red knob sounded announcing the film had ended, and 50 patrons filed out with "good nights," Joe led us through first a photo tour of the original Spanish-style interior and then unlocked the "DO NOT ENTER" door to take us to the dimly-lit backstage.
Some of the original murals could be seen along the way, curtain ropes and pulleys hanging neatly against one side, an old wire raffle basket set back among some stage decorations, a horseshoe over a set of carriage doors, and a spiral staircase going underneath the false floor.
Hugh Simpson, wearing a matching tan polo shirt, joined us backstage and took us to the projection room, where the entire reel of Forest Gump lay on the bottom of an enormous three-tiered reel, and he showed us the film splicer tool, the magnificent projection lens, and the bronze lion-ringed peephole to the theater.
We can get at least one film in before its closed in 2009 for the final restoration phase, and this beautiful piece of local history returns.
What's the flavor of Merced, at the heart of California’s agriculture?
It's like... rum punch: the sweet of clean country polite, the classy of grand buildings, and the genteel of hot summer slow, blended with the hard of torn "rent here" signs, and the burned out of dirty handout-seekers.
It is the cozy and simple of good 'ol fashioned Americana.
And lots to scratch beneath the surface.