Murder on Sixth Avenue

Just a homeless drifter who had nothing better to do. I've seen it many times while living in downtown San Diego for five years.  Many of the over 10,000 homeless drift in and out of traffic, not caring about the metal that might take their life.
   So was the case of John Doe, another orphan of Obama World, probably living in a tent on Park or Commerce Streets. Buzzed out of his mind held up with a fried body, he had nothing better to do than jump in-and-out of traffic. Seen it many-a-time while living downtown at the Y.M.C.A on Broadway. Two of San Diego's finest motorcycle cops gave chase and when he turned around holding a pistol they shot him dead. Now back in the day, Wyatt Earp would have something to say about this and probably shot the police dead in their tracks. But he had died a long time ago in San Diego's Gas Lamp area. 
  And why am I writing about this you ask?  I had driven from Huntington Beach for a much needed vacation and remove myself from Black Friday and the three months of heat. I buzzed down the 405 to the 5 and entered Carlsbad. I entered the Motel Six and as expected got a room. October is the off-season.
  Room 236 cost only $54 for seniors. The Motel off of Carlsbad Village Drive had been recently renovated. I took a long hot shower and sat back to watch T.V. for the fist time in months. I just hate T.V. ever since I have tried to Detox from it. Every San Diego channel produced the same story. A homeless man disturbed traffic in the Gas Lamp quarter. two motorcycle cops gave chase, without turning on their cameras. He ran and they followed. He stopped showing a pistol. They shot him dead. 
  Newscasts of a downpour in Julian, and Putin head to head with Syria's Asad also were mentioned but the death of a homeless one disturbed me. Why are so many African Americans being gunned down?
Yet  I had other objectives. I needed to make a copy of a document and a volunteer at the Encinitas Senior Center would be just the ticket. I had been breaking bread and playing the piano there for the last three years. Judy did and I hope she will now help me publish my book about Amby Schindler
   I had a great spaghetti lunch there before driving to a print shop next to Napa Parts on Encinitas Blvd. I needed a copy of my football story to be delivered to the main Central Library in San Diego. I had time to see Tony Hall at the Mobil Station. He had taken a keen interest in my car Dolly and kept it running for the past two years. Why for a few bucks he fixed a window and changed a few other things for a reasonable price.
   "Nice to see you Tony...How you doin?"
    "Just fine Mr. Garrett."
    "Here is the cover of my football story...I have a oil leak. How much?"
   He smiled and looked me straight in the face. He was in no hurry. We chatted and he checked on his computer for an earlier diagnoses of Dolly.
    "Ya need a head gasket. Be about one hundred forty seven... Please telephone me about two days before you return to the station.
    Yes. I would travel fifty miles to go where trust and humility make the Mobil Station a place to service your car. He radiates charm and the spirit of an upright manger  By the way, you can say hello to him at (760) 753-1000. The Washington Post covered a feature article on him on March of 1991. (Part 1, not edited yet.)