I take our sweet canine, Lucy, to Fort Funston almost every day so that we can both get some fresh air and stretch our legs a bit outside of this house of ours. For those of you that haven't been, Funston is doggie Heaven on Earth. It is one of the most beautiful stretches of coastline South of San Francisco and it is a doggie mecca because it is all off-leash. My Lucy can run for miles in the sand until she passes out from exhaustion. We both love going there.
I would say that 95% of the people at Fort Funston are likeable friendly people with dogs. In fact, a lot of them are dog walkers that have 10-15 dogs (totally ridiculous, but a topic for another day). The remaining 5% is a puzzling bunch. There are the single men or women that pull up just to enjoy the view. Nothing wrong with that. There are the single men that pull up not facing the ocean and seem to park for hours doing I don't want to know what in their cars. No comment. There are the young whipper snappers that park to make out. Who can blame them? But today there was a scene unlike any other that I've seen before: it all involved a woman and a white Mercedes. When I pulled in, this woman had all the doors open and was blasting what appeared to be Celtic music as loud as possible. She was of Asian descent and clad in a very short black mini. This woman appeared to be cleaning out her car. Now, I have been guilty of throwing a few extra things that accumulate in my car in the trash while at the gas station, so I didn't think too much of it. I did, however, find the combo platter of her ethnicity and her passion for Celtic music to be rather unusual.
About an hour later, Lucy and I returned to the car. By this time, the music had turned to some sort of techno dance party and she was still cleaning her car. We threw the ball for a little while closer to the car so that I could attempt to deduce what she was up to. As far as I could tell, she was scrubbing the back seat with such tenacity that her mini skirt was almost up to her neck. Upon closer observation, I noticed that one of the mirrors was half off. In my opinion, the only reason why one needs to scrub the back seat of a car for such a long period of time in such a remote location as Fort Funston is because one has something to hide. Admittedly, I watch way too much Law and Order, but it seems to me that this grifter or con artist of some sort had been carrying around some sort of body in the back seat and was attempting to rid it of all the blood stains.
Lucy and I finally piled into the car still perplexed by the scene when a Subaru station wagon pulled in between us and the grifter. As the car came to a stop, the father in the front seat stared over at the young lady who now was scrubbing the back seat while swaying to the techno debating whether or not to turn off his car...he finally did and we were on our way .
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