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and painting shop. Across from that, a motel that has definitely seen better days, but has not yet been replaced by artsy apartments and lofts.

The concerts were never a problem. But afterward, the attendees liked to party it up much as we did "back in the day," including driving slowly up and down the street just outside my bedroom window in some very noisy cars and pickups, honking horns, revving engines, and looking for members of the opposite sex. Frequently, by 2:30 or 3:00 a.m., our police substation had been called enough times that things began to settle down. It was once a week and I was pretty tolerant. After all, I remembered doing the same thing years ago. The only difference was that back then, there weren't any gated community apartments there. All the shops and businesses were closed for the night (or the weekend) and we could be as rowdy as we wanted without getting in too much trouble.

Week nights were a little better, but every once in a while just as I was falling asleep, I'd hear someone running down the sidewalk, running very fast and a few seconds later, someone else evidently chasing the first runner. I don't think they were out for a 2:00 a.m. jog.

There were also loud and scary sounding arguments from time to time. I never peeked out the window to see what was going on. The lighting around the buildings was very good and, heaven forbid, if the people fighting saw the blinds part even a little bit, they might have decided to include me in their conflict. Once or twice, I was pretty sure I heard gunshots, not nearly far enough away to make me happy.

When I was preparing to move, a Mexican woman came over to buy some small appliances I was selling. She took one look at me and asked, "Aren't you afraid to live here alone?"

"Not at all," I replied. "It can get pretty noisy sometimes, but it's just young people, pumped up from the concert, being, well, young. It's not like they're out there doing anything that's a threat to me."

She said, "Don't kid yourself. You'd be surprised how many of them are packin'. You're practically in the barrio."

Other than that...

The trains didn't go bump in the night. That would have been a great relief. The trains, particularly during the fall harvest, traveled the tracks a block and a half away. If you've ever lived near a very busy railroad track, you know you can tell whether a train is full or empty. In central California, the cargo would be a very large part of the produce you see in the grocery stores, wherever

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