The Trail of Pooh, Chatham.

If you're biking from Harwich to Chatham along the Old Colony Rail Trail, there's a section I should warn you about. I'll try to be as delicate as possible in describing it. Locally, this part of the OCRT is known as "The Trail of Pooh." The name is quaint, but it has nothing whatsoever to do with that loveable bear we all grew up with. On the contrary. If you think of the phrase, "Does a bear pooh in the woods?" you'll have a pretty good handle on what I'm talking about.

On a hot summer day, this is where the proverbial 'pooh' hits the fan -- and you can hardly avoid it (unless the wind is blowing to the northward). Due to an unfortunate juxtaposition, this part of the OCRT runs parallel to the Chatham Honey Farm, a.k.a. the sewage treatment plant. On sweltering July and August days it can become quite ghastly. If you're one of those cyclists with foresight, you could purchase a respirator at the local hardware store before heading out on your cycling venture. But, if hindsight is a governing factor in your life, you could try to outrun it like the couple and child in the accompanying photo.

After many protests from both local and visiting cyclists, the Chatham Town Board floated several solutions to the problem. They all went into the 'dumper', so to speak. The most promising idea of the lot was to construct a large toilet-seat shaped cover for the sewage fields. This idea won a resounding round of applause - until one woman at the town meeting pointed out the fact that all the workers at the sewage treatment facility were men - and being men, they would always leave the seat up - thus, not solving the problem of odeur at all.

And now, this is where serendipity comes into play to present the perfect solution.

Several weeks later, one of the town employees was stopped for erratic driving and given a breathalizer test. Before the officer tapped on his window to offer him a "Howdy-do. License and registration please," he quickly grabbed the pine scented auto freshener dangling from his rear-view mirror and ate it. He beat the breathalizer test - and was later struck by a fascinating solution to the "Trail of Pooh" situation that was plaguing the town and cyclists alike. At the next town meeting, he presented his idea and won over the hearts, minds - and noses of all in attendance.

Town workers are now busily hanging pine scented car fresheners on all the trees along the "Trail of Pooh." Eventually, this section of the OCRT will be renamed Chatham Air, Heaven Scent, Pooh Gone Place, - or something else equally quaint and fitting enough to reflect the town's character and the refurbishment of the air along the trail.

These fresheners will need to be replaced periodically. So, if you'd like to donate to the beautification of the air on the "Trail of Pooh," please send your air fresheners - or tax deductible contributions to the Chatham Town Board at:

Town Offices 549 Main Street, Chatham, MA 02633
Phone: 508.945.5100 Fax: 508.945.3550

Mark you envelope or package "Attn: Trail of Pooh fund."

NOTE: People who donate a case of dangling air fresheners - or, a minimum of $100.00 - will have their name engraved on a plaque that will be placed on the base of a large misting deodorizer soon to be erected at the beginning of the trail section.

The Madonna and Jesus on a Bicycle.

(a slightly outrageous tale).

If you are easily offended by any stories based on religious experiences…please read no farther. I repeat: If you are easily offended by any stories based on religious experiences…please read no farther. PLEASE LEAVE NOW!

I wish not to offend anyone - but only to report an event, which may be thought of as a religious experience. It deals with an apparition, which, if proven true, could tie up a part of the bike trail with traffic congestion worse than Boston on a Monday morning.

Things like this I don't take lightly. I am a very spiritual person. At one time I had given thought to entering the ministry - but the door was locked - and the poor box had already been emptied - so, I gave up the idea. (ba-da-boom! Triple rimshot). I say this knowing that the Big "G" has a mighty good sense of humor. Although, the Archdiocise of Boston may not.

It all began early one Sunday morning, when my cell phone awoke me out of a very peaceful sleep, dreaming of certain politicians being water-boarded. (If I only offend 28% of my readers here, that's okay. My accountant says 72% will approve.)

Back to my story. On the other end of this early morning chin-wag was my old friend and fellow cyclist, Ron Moronski. He was having a fit, while trying to sputter out the words, "Ma-Ma-d-dd-onna and J-J-Jesus Onnna B-b-biiii-cycle. "Okay Ron" I said, "take a deep breath, then speak again slooooowly."

Ron spilled the beans as calmly as he could. and instead of speaking in his stuttering dialect - which could become quite tedious - I'll relate what he said. Ron had just entered the underpass beneath route 6 in Eastham, when his eye caught sight of a darkish sort of stain on one of the upperish tiles lining the underpass. He stopped his bike, turned to face the stain - and almost passed out when he viewed the image, which, he said, "Looked exactly like the Madonna, on a bicycle, toting the baby Jesus in a toddler's seat." I thought Ron had gone around the bend - or fallen off his tricycle. He pleaded with me to come up and see the apparition.

Not wanting to discourage a friend, who was obviously in a state of high religious excitement, I said, "Let me get dressed and I'll be there in about an hour. Do you have your camera with you?" Ron answered in the negative, further stating that he couldn't find any film for his digital camera. I knew this to be a lie, because Joblot has it - and Ron always shops there. "Okay," I said, "I'll bring mine."

I showered, shaved, dressed in my Sunday best (remembering that if I was going to be in the presence of Mary and Jesus I'd better look neat and tidy), then put my bike on the car rack and drove Northward. Recalling that the closest parking lot was just across the way from the underpass, I headed there to save time. Then I got on my bicycle and pedaled the short distance to the underpass, where Ron was sitting in tears.

"They're gone," Ron said, fighting back another burst of tears. I looked up at the tiles, and sure enough, they were clean as a whistle. Then the thought struck me, ' I wonder why the Madonna, et al, were always appearing in places like thruway underpasses, or on toasted cheese sandwiches (like the one on eBay) - and not some grandiose place - like the White House.' Could they have a bad booking agent? Then I quickly remembered the whole thing about separation of church and state - and that put things in perspective.

I comforted Ron, telling him that perhaps they had pedaled off for a brunch or ice cream break - and would return shortly. Ron seemed a little calmer now, and consoled himself with a mouthful of his "Righteous Path" trail mix. And then ----something strange and wonderful happened. As the Sunday morning, "going home from church crowd" began to pass overhead, THE VISION REAPPEARED! I saw it with my own eyes - as did Ron! We both broke into tears of joy and felt quite spiritually elevated.

I raised my camera to capture the image, then, suddenly my heart sank. Gosh darn! Cheese and Crackers -- Got all Muddy! I forgot the film for my digital camera, too. But, I know what I saw. And now I'm a believer. I could not make out what brand of bicycle it was, but, if I finally do at some point, I'll contact the manufacturer and make a mint off of them for the photo.

Could this apparition be a harbinger of things to come? A yearly visit from Jesus and his mom to bless the bike trails? I certainly hope so. It would be nice to have faith in something good in this day and age.

It makes you wonder.

NOTE: Perhaps the Rail Trail association will start an "Adopt the Cycling Madonna and Son" theme and residents can keep the area neat and tidy for all the visitors. You may want to query the 'keepers of the trail' at Nickerson State Park -- or someone influential in the town of Eastham.

Nickerson State Park
3488 Main Street, Brewster, MA 02631
Phone (508) 896-3491
Toll-Free (877) 422-6762

Town of Eastham
2500 State Hwy
Eastham, MA 02642
PH: 508.240.5900
Hours: 8AM - 4PM, Mon - Fri.

The Leaning Tower of Phoneza, Chatham.

Welcome to Chatham's other famous vertical icon (besides the Lighthouse, Bernard Cornwell and Johnny Depp).

To the casual observer, this may look like just an ordinary telephone pole. But I assure you that it is not. The object in view was once a sturdy 12-foot in diameter observation tower for the Chatham fishing fleet that was (due to the impatience of the Town Board) constructed in 1894 of fresh, undried, fuhnoogie wood.

It shrank a full 8 feet the first year, eventually trapping a fleet observer and his stenographer for several hours before they were pryed loose by a crew from the local life-saving station. In 1896 it shrank another 2.25 feet and was closed due to the impossibility of climbing the spiral staircase - which had melded itself into an impenetrable mass. Despite these mishaps, the tower stood perfectly straight - at least for a couple of years after it's shrinking marathon.

In 1899, several valiant efforts were made to "poof out" the Tower to its original diameter, and I must admit that some of the solutions were quite ingenious. The most promising one put forth the idea of holding a "Telephone Booth" stuffing contest, wherein, 300 of the stoutest Chatham fishermen would try to insinuate themselves - one-by-one - into a small breach in the Tower. They concluded that once they were all inside they would breathe deeply in unison and the Tower would expand back to its original size.

This all might have gone well, had not a prankish child slipped a rotting pilchard into the trowser pocket of one of the fisherman. And, unfortunately, this fisherman was the first to hit the breach. He got in safely without too much struggle, then fishermen 2,3,4 and 5 managed to stuff themselves in behind him. The interior air was in short supply to begin with - and by the time fisherman number 6 had joined the fray, the smell of rotting pilchard had begun to overcome them all. One-by-one they temporarily lost consciousness and oozed out of the breach in the Tower - in the opposite of the order they had wiggled in.

Brought to consciousness by seamen's smelling salts (Rum), the fishermen all decided that the venture was too dangerous and gave up the attempt. Thankfully, each of them recovered quickly and lived to a ripe old age, often telling their grandchildren about their fascinating exploit to save the Tower. I frequently wonder why the town of Chatham has never placed a plaque here mentioning this valiant restoration attempt.

The other efforts, although interesting in their thought process, were really too feeble when compared to the "Telephone Booth" method - so I will spare the reader and not mention them.

The Tower stood defiantly in place with no prospects of regaining its previous size or stature. Then, in 1901, the elements took over. Its foundation was loosened by the notorious Chatham fog that we all know so well. And the Tower began to warp out of plumb; perhaps the result of its trying to twist off the foundation and move to neighborhood with less fog. This sounds plausible, but you should check with the town historian about it.

For 2 decades afterward, the Tower fell into disrepair. Strong winds had stripped its shutters and torn off its shingles. Its chimney crumbled, vines covered its surface and it was completely lost from view. Until one evening in 1921. A sailor on shore leave and his lady were leaning up against the vines, engaged in a passionate kiss, when a long-forgotten log book, high up in the Tower, suddenly declared its independence and came crashing down on their heads.

The next day they took their find to the Chatham Historical Society, who verified that the log book was from the long lost Tower - and they immediately formed a group to remove the vines and expose the Tower to the public view again.

Caught up in a post-WW1 swirl of renewed patriotism and sense of history, another group was formed to freshen up the Tower. Its surface was painted with a protective coat of creosote and flowers were planted at its base. That same year, it was voted to make the Tower a special focal point of local pride and it was suggested that the Tower be the center of a yearly celebration in Chatham. May 1st was chosen because the 4th of July already had its fireworks, Easter had its egg roll down the library lawn, and 'Tickle the Town Drunk' day had a peripatetic schedule (usually by word of mouth) that couldn't be pinned down.

The local telephone company made a generous offer to attach wires to steady the Tower and keep if from falling over in a strong wind. This was readily accepted. The wires are still visible in the accompanying photo. To give the Tower some "international cache" and also refer to the generosity of the phone company, it was renamed The Leaning Tower of Phoneza.

The Tower is well worth visiting any time of year, but May 1st (and for about a week afterward) is really the best time. Every year on that day local children stage a Maypole celebration, each taking hold of a colored ribbon attached to the top of the Tower and riding their bikes in unison to wind a multi-colored stripe around it.

During the early years of this ritual, the children rode in 2 coincentric circles going in opposite directions. This proved to be quite unwieldy for some. But, when it was done right, the Tower displayed colorful corn rows instead of the less eye-catching multi-colored flat stripes. To lessen the number of colliding cyclists, who often suffered scraped knees, this practice was given up - and the single-circle, one direction route was established as the norm in 1967.

Today, visitors from around the world come to picnic beneath the Tower and have their picture taken by a local photographer with an old bellows camera, who also supplies period attire for those willing to "dress the part."

Further inquiries about the Tower can be addressed to:

Chatham Historical Society
347 Stage Harbor Rd.
P.O. Box 381
Chatham, MA 02633
p. (508) 945-2493
f. (508) 945-1205
e-mail. chathamhistoricalsociety@verizon.net

-- The Phantom Cyclist

The Electro-magnetic Rotary, Harwich.

Harwich is known for being in the forefront of technology here on Cape Cod. It has an Internet Café, the Library is set up for Wi-Fi, the Thrift Shop has a web site - and many stores have electronic cash registers. Even the church carillon is electronic.

This year, Harwich is introducing something a bit radical for visitors to the Cape Cod Bike Trails. It's called the Electro-magnetic Rotary. A strong magnetic force-field generator has been installed at the bike rotary to help regulate traffic, so there is no congestion on the bike paths during the high season in summer.

You will notice a gray steel cylinder in the photo above. This houses the specially developed magnetic force-field generator that is responsible for creating the computerized field. It is patterned after the "Bubblejet" memory Canon printers use; but it has bigger, more powerful bubbles.

Let me explain how it works. The generator, which is fitted with motion sensors, detects the level of traffic: light, medium, heavy. Usually, during periods when bike traffic is light, the force-field is in sleep or standby mode. When traffic increases to medium, a warning light goes on to notify cyclists that they should be aware of changes about to occur. When bike traffic is heavy, the force-field generator kicks into high gear and sets up an electro-magnetic field that governs and re-directs traffic in a matter of nano-seconds.

Okay, now that you've got a mental picture of the force-field, let's see how this works in actual practice - with cyclists about to enter the rotary - or who are already in it.

When the rotary and/or its corresponding paths become overloaded with cyclists, the electro-magnetic generator encloses it with an invisible force-field that automatically puts up an electronic wall to hold approaching cyclists at bay. Those already in the force-field are whisked around in the rotary at a swift pace to their intended trajectory - off to either, Brewster/Orleans/Wellfleet; Harwich Center/Chatham; or to the trailhead in Dennis.

Cyclists must keep their eyes on their respective exits, which are fitted with roundish red/yellow/green warning lights. A red light means 'continue around the rotary until the light turns green.' A yellow light means 'proceed with caution through your exit, because there may be other bikes in the way.' A green light means 'put the pedal to the metal and zip through the exit to your appointed destination.'

Several glitches have already occurred since the beginning of the cycling season, but the Harwich Town Department has been diligently working to correct them. One glitch revealed that the force-field settings still needed tweaking. The generator had a habit of sucking change and other items out of cyclist's 'fanny packs' and pockets. Two gold fillings, 3 sets of denture, 2 bras with metal snaps, and 4 hearing aids were also discovered in the generator's 'catch-all' bin. Fifteen watches have made their way into the generator housing; 7 of which have proven to be fake Rolexes. Hopefully, this will be sorted out soon. Any unclaimed watches or change will be donated to local charities.

Harwich town employees have been testing the rotary for several weeks and there are still a few kinks to be worked out. On one occasion, the field switch was accidentally set at 'Warp Speed 5'. Several employees were zipped around like a centrifuge and became airborne. Thankfully, none of them were catapulted into the trees or bushes because of the height of the force-field. They complained only of a mild dizziness and were sent home to recuperate. A 'locking gate' now covers the 'Warp Speed' area of the switch board.

On another occasion, the force-field computer operator went off-duty early and 23 town employees were forced to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening locked in the force-field after the Windows Vista operating system coaxed itself into limbo. When the employees were discovered asleep on the job in the morning, they were docked a day's pay. After protesting this action and hiring a lawyer from the ACLU, their pay was re-instated. Hopefully, this incident will be expunged from their job performance reviews.

By the time you read this article, the force-field should be working "pretty close to perfection," as one unnamed town employe said. The Windows Vista software of the initial system kept closing, or failing to close when prompted - and turned the force-field into a blue screen on 6 different occasions. The "Runtime Error!" message appeared so frequently that it soon became an old friend.

The Windows Vista software is still experiencing some 'interference' problems with people wearing body jewelry in the rotary, which has caused some very embarrassing moments for cyclists when their jewelry starts transmitting Cape Cod radio stations. Men are asked to refrain from touching the dials when this happens.

Breast implants also pose a problem, as the force-field tends to enlarge them, creating semi-lethal weapons which have acted like ping-pong paddles knocked cyclists off their bikes and injured some small dogs. Beta copies of Windows 7, (The full version is due out in the Fall), seem to have corrected most of these problems.

The rumor of a chihuahua being sucked into the generator, published in the Harwich Oracle, (and later picked up by The National Inquirer, Reuters and the Associated Press) has proven to be false. He was only chasing a ball thrown by his owner and bounded into the opening on his own. He was retrieved after 3 hours by the town fire/
rescue department using a pack of "Snausages" to lure him out - and appeared to be unharmed. According to a local witness, "He was one lucky pup."

To date, nobody has been lost in the vortex and no pets have been permanently harmed. "And that's a good thing," as Martha Stewart would say. Let's hope the season stays error-free.

If you would like to learn more about the electro-magnetic force-field rotary traffic governor, (EMFFRT-G for short) you can write to the Harwich Town Hall. They will be happy to send you a free brochure describing how it works, and what you should do about missing watches and loose change, etc. Ask for brochure HAR-EMFFRT-G1. Please enclose a self-addressed, stamped envelope. Use the contact information below.

Harwich Town Hall
732 Main St.,
Harwich Center, MA 02645
PH: (508) 430-7514 FAX: (508) 432-5039
Hours: Mon: 8:30AM - 8PM, Tue - Thu: 8:30AM - 4PM, Fri: 8:30AM - 12PM

PLEASE NOTE: Use Caution! If you wear a hearing aid, implants, a pacemaker or dentures, do not enter the rotary when the force-field is engaged. There are signs posted, so please be aware of them. It is suggest that if you carry a small dog, please make sure they are strapped into their baskets. Also, if you have large hooters, please make sure they are strapped in, too.

-- The Phantom Cyclist

The Wedding Cake Factory, Sandwich.

Before I tell you the story of the Wedding Cake Factory, I would be remiss if I didn't include something about the original tenant of the building - the Mama Nickerson's Vulcanized Cod Fish Ball Company. It was founded by three local fishermen, members of a respected old Cape Cod family, just returned from WWII. They revamped a 'secret' breading compound, originally developed by them and applied to flak jackets, which greatly improved their protective qualities.

This "bread of life" compound gave the cod fish balls an extraordinary chewy texture. It proved to be a Godsend for local residents, because of food shortages and rationing called for by the Government, which were still in effect. People could pop one or two of these 'springy' delights into their mouth - and get more chewing satisfaction than they would from a complete meal with side orders of potatoes and vegetables. They were soon on the school lunch program, where they saved thousands of dollars each year. Dentists even began to recommended them for preventing cavities - without having to ingest large quantities of dangerous fluoride.

For half a generation, the building sported the famous advertising slogan, "Mama Nickerson's Vulcanized Cod Fish Balls - Mmmmm, Chewy!" It became a local tradition, when passing by the factory, to make visible chewing motions, rub one's tummy and say, "Mmmmm, Chewy!"

The company bounced along very nicely - even through the Korean war years - until, in 1960, a bid was tendered by the Goodyear Tire & Rubber Company. At first, the offer was turned down, but Goodyear then promised the owners that they could continue to run the plant and keep all the employees. Shortly after the deal was signed, Goodyear fired everyone and set up new machinery in the factory, where they proceeded to manufacture basketballs and golf balls - using the patented 'secret' breaded coating. After 1 year the factory machinery was moved to Ohio and the building left vacant.

Today, both the NBA and ABA use basketballs manufactured with the original Mama Nickerson's coating. They are emblazoned with the phrases, "Bounce this!", "Bounce What?" and "Yo Mama!" The golf balls, with the quaint, fishy sounding name of Super Max-Fry, were outlawed by the PGA in 2004 - but are still allowed in use on non-PGA courses and in some Country Club tournaments.

The Nickerson brothers, feeling very let down by the corporate 'fibbing', decided to approach entrepreneurship once again. Their first idea of Frozen Cod on a Stick - a treat developed for the summer tourist crowd - fell flat as a flounder. But their next idea was an absolute gem! Using their collective minds they developed what has become famous around the world: The Oyster-Stuffed wedding cake.

To convey the happy and festive spirit of a wedding, the outside of the factory building was painted to resemble a wedding cake surrounded by oysters. Cartoon balloons were drawn overhead and filled with cheeky phrases like: "I'll be waiting in the bed for you," "Honey, we're going to have a little oyster," "I love it when you irritate me!"…and the like.

The client list read like a "Who's Who" of celebrities: From Jacky Gleason and Jackie Kennedy Onasis (ordered twice), to Mick Jagger, Johnny Carson, Grace Kelly, Ringo Starr, Paul McCartney, Dr. Timothy Leary (with the first and only LSD laced oyster cake) Brad Pitt, Gwenyth Paltrow, Cate Blanchett, Johnny Depp - and many others too numerous to mention in an article of this size.

The biggest repeat customer was Elizabeth Taylor, followed by Zsa Zsa Gabor in a closely contested race. Some Hollywood historians say they both acquired and shed husbands at a fanatical pace - just to have another 'go' at these wonderful wedding cakes.

Today, the Wedding Cake Factory sits idle; the victim of too many back-to-back seasons of red tide, coupled with unfair international fishing rules. Its once happily painted exterior has been given a coat of sky blue and gray, signifying more of a weather condition than a place that once dispensed joy to newly married couples.

Perhaps, one day when the 'powers that be' remember who they are sworn to represent, the fishing rules will change for the better - and the Wedding Cake Factory will spring to life again - manufacturing their mouth-watering, libido enhancing treats for all newlyweds and their wedding guests to enjoy.

-- The Phantom Cyclist

The Abominable Sandmen of Provincetown.

There's been a serious outbreak of 'rumpy-pumpy' in the dunes. Oh, no! Not again! Well, this seems to be a recurrent theme - and, perhaps, it's just summer re-run time.

As recently as this past June, a number of 'abominable sandmen' have been observed by cyclists and hikers in the Dunes. The sandmen romp around stark naked, engaged in sand ballet, leapfrog, hide the gerbil and other outdoor sports not usually performed in polite company.

The locals call them sandmen for the simple reason that they are like a desert mirage. One moment you see them. The next, you don't. When you shout, "Hey you! Stop that, it's disgusting!" they seem to disappear into the dunes; somewhat like the Clay People in those old Flash Gordon serials disappeared into the rock walls.

Now, let me state that nudity doesn't bother me. In my youth I once streaked a Baskin- Robbins in Greenwich, Connecticut. That was because the Boodles restaurant entrance was being guarded. (I think somebody tipped them off). I'm also a staunch heterosexual - and that's probably because I can't stand either the Republican or Democratic party the way they are today.

Anyway, public nudity does bother a lot of people. And nudity in the dunes, with its accompanying gymnastics, can be very disconcerting for most of the general public. It has been a problem in Provincetown for quite some time. And it doesn't seem likely that it will go away soon. The town has tried many different ways to stop it, but all of them have been only 'mildly' successful.

The most egregious display of the "Sandman Circus" (as some locals call it) happened last year when a nice family, just like yours or mine, was hiking in the dunes. Their little boy was running ahead and then darted off into the bushes to play 'hide and seek' - and pop out at his parents and siblings as they strode by. What he got was the surprise of his life - because he had just stumbled upon a group of 'sandmen' en flagrante delecto.

He literally bounded over the bushes - hair standing on end, arms flailing like helicopter blades - and ran up to his family screaming those words a parent never wants to hear: "Mommy, there's a bunch of naked men behind the bushes - and they're playing Twister!"

The parents later wrote a letter of complaint and were responded to with an official apology, plus tickets to all the events at the next Provincetown Carnival Week. The little boy has been receiving counseling and seems to have readjusted to his normal life.

Another notable incident happened last August, when a whale-watch boat was passing Wood Lighthouse. The captain and some of the passengers witnessed a group of 20-30 sandmen playing "stationary leapfrog." The captain got on his bull horn and shouted out, "Stop that! You're scaring the fish away!" The men continued their romp -- and several excited passengers jumped overboard to join the activities.

I have it on 'good authority' from an aquintance who knew somebody, who knew somebody who knew somebody who was there, that the cause for the 'romp' around the lighthouse was a celebration. It seems that a group of Provincetown entrepreneurs had all launched their new "." com companies the same day. They wanted to celebrate their IPO's and decided that this was an ideal venu to 'go public' in a big way.

Because of a lack of manpower to patrol the dunes, the police effort has been one of containment, rather than capital punishment. When caught, the sandmen are usually let off with a warning to "Stop doing that! What would your mother say?" and an order to cover themselves with a towel. None have yet been brought to police headquarters, because handcuffing them could be construed as an all too suggestive act.

The patrols do go on - although sporadically. On one occasion the Provincetown fire department was sent out with 'pumper packs' on their backs to squirt cold water on the offending gymnasts. This had little effect, because the sandmen could easily outrun a fireman with a pumper full of water strapped to his back.

Then, the police department sent a special SNAP team armed with wet rolled up towels. This also partially failed, because the culprits were very adept at either outrunning the donut-powered SNAP team - or blending into the surroundings. The two sandmen who were caught seemed to like being 'snapped' and put up no resistance - even after five minutes had elapsed.

Former Provincetown policeman - and former sandman - Randy Buttocks, who wishes to remain anonymous, told me the sandmen are now so creative and clever at concealing themselves that the police never have a chance to apprehend them.

To quote him: "Now they flatten themselves face down in the sand, disguised as bicycle racks. Or, effect positions that make them look like driftwood or lawn sculptures." He further divulged that, "They also disguise themselves as bike bridge buttresses and ornaments - and they actually look quite marvelous - almost Art Deco-ish."

A new patrol group, formed by the police choral society, has taken to walking through the dunes singing, "Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream, make his complexion like peaches and cream…" to lure them out of hiding. To date, this has not worked - although several officers have heard "a nice harmony coming from somewhere out there in the dunes."

One disgruntled P-Town cop suggested that "When they're caught, we should tag their 'weenie' with a brass tracking button like the conservationists do to keep track of animals." That is something to think about, although I hope the button doesn't say 'Steiff'. That would just be too obscene.

How do the sandmen get there without being seen? Is there a "Buck-naked Bus Lines" shuttle to the dunes? I don't know. Perhaps they just ride their bicycles like you and me.

If you do happen to encounter one - or more - of these sandmen, please do not mention Barbara Streisand, Judy Garland, Betty Davis or Madonna to them. It could cause a nervous reaction - and then who knows what would happen to you. If you do make a slip of the tongue, take a few slow steps back - point and say, "Oooooh, is that Barry Manilow over there?" - then run or bike like hell the other way.

To be on the safe side, you could say that you are St. Mary/Fred, Patron Saint of the Third Gender, and that you are taking donations for a new retreat. When they say, "Sorry, I don't seem to have any change on me," you can whack their 'pee-pee' with a ruler and send them off with a firm admonition to keep their clothes on in a public place.

There seems to be no end in sight of these rude 'doings in the dunes.' But, perhaps some kind of public forum could address the problem. In the meantime, the town police are at a disadvantage - and they'll be even more so, when the sandmen start to complain about 'profiling.'

-- The Phantom Cyclist

Druid Stones, Nickerson State Park.

We all know there are no signs of intelligent life on Capitol Hill - or on Fox (Faux) News. But, did you know there are in Brewster, MA? Yep. That's right. Scout's honor!

While doing my first bike circuit of the trails in Nickerson State Park, I happened to stumble upon (well, ride by) some bearers of ancient wisdom. These creatures of intelligentsia were not actually human - nor were they extra-terrestrial. They were simply stones. But, their silence spoke volumes. Or, notebooks -- at the very least.

The first inkling that I was onto something, was the writing on the stones. It was not your ordinary writing like "John Loves Mary," "D.E.P.," "G.W.B. is a Dumb-ass" or "Exit" (with an arrow pointing in one direction); it was writing I was not familiar with. I could sense there was something more mysterious - perhaps, even profound - about these ancient forms of communication I was looking at.

'What a great surprise this discovery was,' I thought to myself. Ancient stones were about to tell me things that would make today's TV and radio news sound bites seem vacuous and mind-numbingly stupid. Wait a minute. They're already that way - without comparing them to the wisdom of a stone.

I began to wonder what the writing was all about. But, hauling the stones home on my bike to study them would almost certainly prove fatal - if not perilous - and would be bad for my back and knees - not to mention the bike wheels. So, I snapped pictures of every large stone I could find with writing (i.e. chiseling or painting) on it. I also included a few specimens with moss that looked like some form of writing.

Before long I had a camera full of stone-borne knowledge, just waiting for me to download, research - and decipher with the help of the Internet. Perhaps one of them would be like the Rosetta Stone, unearthed by Napoleon Bonaparte, that helped to unlock those 'racy' parts in the Bible. I could only hope.

After a hearty supper of broiled Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and an Oreo salad,
I settled into my 'computerland comfort zone' and began the research in earnest. Right off the bat, I hit the jackpot! I found the Druid for Dummies codex on Amazon.com -- and bought the accompanying books that others who looked at the DfD had also bought. Man, I was in Fat City now! After paying for expedited shipping, I just continued my normal life and waited for the FEDEX man to deliver. It seemed like only minutes later he was knocking on my door.

Now, armed with the tools I needed, I began deciphering the stones. And, to be honest, I was a bit anxious and fearful. Was I about to unlock a Pandora's Box that would plunge the world into utter chaos? Then I thought, 'Nope, that's already been done by our present administration, the mortgage lenders, oil speculators and OPEC.' So, I relaxed for a few moments, took a deep breath - and plunged in. What follows is completely mind-boggling!

The first stone, pictured here, is almost identical to one that my wife and I saw in Sweden. She, being Swedish, translated the words/symbols - and it's secret was unlocked in a trice. The writing said (and I will swear to this on a stack of unbuilt IKEA furniture), "We were here almost 500 years before Columbus. Signed, Leif & Thorvald Erickson. P.S. Hi! Mom & Dad. Please send fresh underwear and lingonberries." Those words left me shaking in my Lillejhammer sweater! Literally!

Although this stone is post-Druid, it does prove - beyond a reasonable doubt - that we should be celebrating Leif and Thorvald Erickson day in October instead of Columbus day. I mean, what did Columbus ever do but discover Ohio - and the Spice Girls Islands. Big Whoop.

The next 4 stones were even more curious - and seem to all inter-relate. They were spaced about 25 paces apart. I give you the translation in its entirety so you will know that I am not doing any sleight of stone or word here.

"If Smoother Cheeks
are what you Crave,
Then Shave your Face
With Druid Shave."

Being an expatriate of Madison Ave. I thought - "See, there's nothing new. Just new ways of saying it." Then I wondered if the Druids had just updated old sayings by the Cro-Magnons - or the West Coast Piltdowns.

A vertical stone was next, depicting 2 half-naked Druids. One, with a fierce warrior-like look, held the other over his head ready to thrust him to the ground.
The inscription, according to my Druid for Dummies codex, translated to "Druid Wrestling Federation Smackdown." Unfortunately, the date of the "smackdown" had been eroded by the forces of nature. But, that was okay, since I arrived on the scene too late to enjoy it.

An adjacent stone depicted a large dog with what looked like a coal scoop being held behind it's tail pipe. The writing said, "Pick up after your dog. It's the law!" That one really blew me away. Massachusetts had Blue Laws that went all the way back to Druid times! Who woulda thunk it?

One-by-one I was now unlocking the mysteries of the here-to-fore enigmatic Druid stones. I could hear a faint voice in the back of my mind…"And now the Nobel Prize for his study of Druid stones goes to…"

Back to reality. An extremely curious stone pictured a Druid who looked like a scholarly/physician type. He stood next to a camel. 9 other scholarly/physician types were silhouetted in the background. The inscription, translated by the DfD codex said, "9 out of 10 Doctors who have tried Camels say they still prefer women." I know that one is an old 'groaner,' and was probably put there at a later date as a bit of levity -- perhaps, to elicit a smile from the weary travelers. Or, maybe it was an early ad for 'safe sex'.

The next stone was emblazoned with a lovely Druidish young lady who had what appeared to be hollowed out canteloupes with leafy straps adorning her upper naughty bits. She looked relaxed, confident - and enticing. The writing translated to: "I dreamed I recited the Pythagorean doctrine in my Druid-Tex living bra."

That was really profound. I felt I was on a roll now -- and learning some very insightful things about the Druids.

Then I hit a roadblock. The moss covered stone looked like it wanted to speak - but the letters/symbols seemed to blend together and muffle its speech. At first, I thought it translated to "Bmffg Smek Purdoff Wikken Drub Sproik…" But, after I sharpened and tweaked the picture in Photoshop it all became perfectly clear. It said, "A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss." Well, that's a true statement if ever there was one. And, obviously, this particular stone was as unmotivated as a slug. After being left in its place by the last glacier, it decided it was tired of roving, just sat there - and grew moss. After spending that amount of time traveling, I think I'd do the same.

A curious piece of artwork appeared on a stone about 50 yards beyond the one I just described. It depicted a Druid floating above a wagon. He was in a seated position and seemed to be on a collision course with the front seat. The writing said,"Let Fertz put you in the driver's seat." It was a good thing that Fertz was selling/renting a 'convertible'. If they were offering a sedan, I can imagine that stuffing him through the side window would be something like the reverse process of being born.

Further ahead another non-Druid stone appeared -- with an inscription that looked like a smorgasbord of all the Scandinavian languages. I asked my wife if she was up to the task of translating and she quickly set about deciphering it. In a short 3 minutes she had it all done. The inscription read, "Viking World Tour: England 793 A.D.; Wales 795 A.D.; France 799 A.D.; Ireland 807 A.D.; Russia 826 A.D; Spain 844 A.D.; Morocco 845 A.D.; Ireland 860 A.D.; Greece 921 A.D.; Italy 957 A.D.; America 1,000 A.D."

So, there was a Scandinavian rock group before ABBA! And they were right here on Cape Cod around the same time as the Erickson brothers. I think it's double proof that they beat Columbus. Was this coincidence or serendipity? You be the judge.

The next stone depicted a group of Druids hauling their carts around wildly in a large circle. The writing simply said, "DASCAR Rocks!"

Further on, a stone pictured a wide-eyed young Druid reading what looked like a paperback book. The writing translated to: "Druid in the Rye. Now available at book stalls everywhere."

Hmmmm….I was beginning to see a pattern here. Had I stumbled onto an ancient roadway that had been plastered with Druid era billboards and Viking era 'post-it' notes? The answer was a definite 'maybe'.

The following stone still has me quite puzzled. It depicted two crossed clubs with a round stone-like thingy in the center. The writing translated to: "Yankees Suck! Go Red Sox!" Did Yankees really suck on red sox? And was there another club-wielding tribe designated to bring/sell these articles to them? Or, maybe they used the clubs to hit the sox (that round thingy in the center) to the Yankees in some sort of pagan ritual? Perhaps a future congress of anthropologists or linquists will be able to shed more light on this. At present, I can't seem to get my head around it.

Moving along with the show....

Just like their modern-day counterparts, Druid era travelers needed some kind of sustenance along the road. And one of the stones catered directly to them. It depicted a steaming cauldron surrounded by 2 high arches. The writing, when translated, read: "Get your Happy Meal at McDruid's. Only 10 kilometers ahead."

At this point I cried out, "HELP! I'm being 'spammed' by Druid ads!"

That was the last straw. Well, almost. A kindly face etched into the stone in the next picture drew my attention. He looked like the Druid version of my uncle Ralph; middle-aged and balding. He was gripping in both hands what appeared to be a handful of sphagnum moss. The translation read: "Please don't squeeze the bun-wad."

Now I'm convinced that Madison Avenue is just recycling - with not a whit of creativity among the whole lot.

I now became disenchanted with my discovery, and a feeling overcame me -- not unlike that feeling you get when you open your new box of Dove Bars and find that they've shrunk to about half their original size -- Or, that your once fulfilling cup of yogurt has been downsized to a thimble full.

Discouraged by being bombarded with Druid-era ads, I started to exit the Zoom Browser EX program, when my eye hit upon the HOLY GRAIL of stones. It had an intriguing shape unlike the others. It was tablet-like in its configuration and beckoned me to take a closer look.

I could not readily make out what the writing said, so I popped the picture into Photoshop. What appeared there sent me into shock and awe for 15 minutes - plus a few additional seconds to comb my hair down from it's un-choreographed standing on end position.

There - before my eyes - in descending order, were writings numbered 11-15. At the bottom, the writing said, "These are my 15 commandments. Obey them." There was no copyright date - only the words "Etched by the Holy Spirit Engraving Co., Lord's Highway, Heaven.

Now, if I divulge what these last 5 commandments are, either Mel Brooks will go into a laughing fit and have a stroke, or the Pope will have a heart attack. And I will not have that on my conscience. So, I will reveal nothing about them - and only say, "We're all in deep doo-doo now!"

Happy biking -- as long as the world lasts. And, as Yogi Berra once said, "It ain't over 'til the fat lady sings."

-- The Phantom Cyclist

Bob's Discount Appliances, Eastham.

Bob's Discount Appliances, located at the back of the Eastham town dump*, has been a bargain hunter's paradise for decades. And, unlike BJ's, Costco or Sam's Club, you don't need to buy a membership. Just walk in. Pick up your treasures. Pay - and head for home with that glint of sheer satisfaction in your eyes. You get great bargains - for a fraction of what it would cost - even at Sears Sale Days, Joblot or Christmas Tree Shops.

I first discovered this hidden gem while riding along the Cape Cod Rail Trail's upper portion. Now into its second generation of ownership, Bob's caters to families on a budget - who know a good bargain.

When I was writing, hosting and producing "Redneck Gardening" for cable TV, I learned a lot of creative ways to re-use everyday household items. And with the treasures waiting to be found at Bob's, I guaranty you there is no end to the variety of uses you can put these old appliances to.

So, what has Bob's Discount Appliances got for you? A better question is: What hasn't Bob's got?

Need a beer or beverage cooler? Try one of Bob's top-loading washers. Just add ice - and voila! You're in like flint! Tired of opening all those cans of Hawaiian Punch for your Summerfest with a puny hand crank or punch type can opener? Just pick up an old Yamaha 185 HP from Bob's 'marine shed', place it in a 55-gallon drum, toss in the cans, fire up the engine - and watch the propeller blade neatly slice the tops and bottoms off instantly! All you have to do is remove the metal pieces - and your ready to make your Summerfest guests as 'Pleased as Punch'.

And, how could I forget those electric can openers. They make great finger and toe-nail trimmers. Be sure to buy several boxes of band-aids, just in case. NOTE: The ASPCA asks that you please don't use these for trimming your pet's claws.

Need a new TV stand? That old front loading washer will do nicely. And when you get tired of flipping channels, you can watch your own reflection in the door glass. "Look Ma!, I'm on TV!" The FLWs also make great tropical fish tanks. The only problem I've encountered so far is in feeding the fish. Whenever you open the door to put in the food, the water - and the fish - escape quite rapidly. Perhaps some creative thinking would solve this problem. But, not being a collector of fish, I'm afraid this is a bit outside my area of expertise.

Used stoves make great TV stands, too. And the doors/drawers in front can hold videos and video components like DVD players, Nintendo games, etc. Stove doors also make great coffee tables - or dinner trays for 'real men'.

And what about those heating elements from the stove top? Well, they're a little bit too large for the 'fashionistas' to use as ear, eyebrow, lip or nose rings. But, they are great for something else - instant wall sculptures or coasters for soup bowls. You can even paint them. And what about that stove clock? How about using it for a tongue ornament? When somebody asks you what time it is, you just unroll your tongue and answer their query. There's a piercing salon right next to the swap shop that will be happy to accommodate your request.

And speaking of salons: How about saving big bucks and doing your hair at home. One of Bob's used clothes dryers fills the bill nicely. After you've dyed and rolled your hair, just place your head inside the dryer and turn it on. In just 10 minutes, your hair is ready - and your wallet is still full. This sure beats the old 'dry your hair in a microwave' method first made popular by those country and western belles.

Restauranteurs 'in the know' are aware of how well Bob's clothes dryers function as salad spinners -- if you remove the heating element. For that reason, they get snapped up almost as soon as they arrive. If you're lucky enough to get one, be sure to clean out the lint trap and any dead animals before using.

Need an 'entertainment center' that's also a conversation piece? Look no farther than Bob's. They've got a great selection of old refrigerators that you can cram a studio's worth of entertainment electronics into - including your TV. Most of the doors have been taken off these for safety reasons, but if you scout around I'm sure you'll find one there. For an extra special 'crème-de-la-crème' entertainment center, look for an old LG fridge with the freezer part below. You can store your cold beer there for when you're watching NASCAR races, and never have to leave the room - except to take a wiz. If you're into watching PBS instead of NASCAR and 'reality shows', you can chill several dozen bottles of wine in the lower fridge. Truro Vineyards, just up the road, has some excellent choices.

Another great use of the refrigerators is replacing those old 'bathtub madonnas'. Instead of letting "Maddy" fry in the sun, get drenched in the rain or freeze in the snow, you can keep her nicely shielded and out of harm's way. Just put one of Bob's fridges in the back yard, place the Madonna in it - and all your wishes will come true if you also tell 7 friends within 7 days of doing so. This 'transformation of the refrigerator' has become so popular, there is a rumor circulating about bringing back the "Blessing of the Appliances" day that was once a fixture of Cape Cod life. Let's hope/pray for the best.

Bob's is also a feast for the fashion conscious. Into decorating your own clothes? Bob's want's to be your fashion supply store. Sequined jeans are out - knobby jeans are in! For that exclusive 'Cape Cod Country Look', just sew - or hot glue - a variety of appliance knobs onto your faded jeans. You'll be the talk of the town. Guaranteed.

Bob's Garden Center adjunct also offers some prime items. Need an air conditioner, but you're turned off by expensive electric bills? Just mount one of Bob's old 'pre-owned' lawn mowers in the window, fire it up and begin sucking that hot air out of your house instantly. Even with gas hovering above $4.00 a gallon, you'll still be on the plus side with cash when compared to the Cape's electric rates. Be sure to use a blade guard - something from a charcoal grill, perhaps.

Need a cheese grater, but you're not inclined to pay Williams Sonoma prices? Bob's Garden Center has the answer. That old Scott's lawn spreader is the ideal way to spread Gorgonzola, Mozarella, Parmesan, etc. Fill it up with cheese, heft it up to your shoulder, - and crank away! If you set the spreader dial at '6', you won't even have to move around the table. You can spread the cheese to every plate right from where you stand. Be sure to wear a large plastic raincoat -- and warn your dinner guests before you start cranking.

Bob's Discount Appliances is so popular that it hasn't gone unnoticed by some outsiders. Now there's hidden market well below the radar: Foreigners. With the weakness of the dollar, many people in foreign countries have discovered that the treasures of Bob's Discount Appliances can be bought cheap - and sold dear in their countries. They arrive in their Armani suits, load up the rental truck - and spirit their finds off to Logan airport to be shipped home. Some of them spend their whole vacations at Bob's. And I can tell you that this is really helping to decrease our trade deficit. Hurray for Bob's!

There also seems to be a new trend in motion, right here on the Cape. The Rich nobs with their Trophy homes are trying to fit into the neighborhoods better (trying to be more like the locals, to ease tensions) - and they've taken up decorating their lawns and back yards with appliances from Bob's. But, in my opinion, I think they've just run out of expensive things to buy - and broken appliances are the last bastion of acquisition for the rich. That's my take on it, anyway. Or, maybe they've gotten to the point where they just have to have everything - period! They usually drive up in an inconspicuous 5-toned (4 shades of rust) Chevy Lumina wagon; but their Sydney Bespoke custom-tailored shirts and Di Fabrizio shoes are a dead giveaway as to the social class they inhabit. The old faded 'Billionaires for Bush' bumper sticker is also an instant clue.

If you're ready for bargains galore at way below discount prices, empty out the station wagon or van and make haste to Bob's Discount Appliances at the town dump* in Eastham. Happy shopping!

Hours are:

Summer Hours: (Begin 7/7/2008)
Friday - Wednesday
7:30 AM - 4:00 PM
Closed Thursday

Winter Hours: (Begin 9/5/08)
Saturday - Wednesday
7:30 AM - 4:00 PM
Closed Thursday & Friday

Swap Shop Hours:
8:00 AM - 3:00 PM

Closed all Holidays

Don't forget the 5% sales tax, if you're a Massachusetts resident.

NOTE: All items sold 'as is'. No returns. Some items may be exchanged at the discretion of Bob's employees.

*Now called the 'Transfer Station'. This term has caused some confusion among the Flex and Breeze bus riders -- and a new name may be needed to help eliminate the long lines of pedestrians waiting outside the gate.

-- The Phantom Cyclist