F.S.B. part 1

Somewhere along the Black Horse Pike (Rt. 130) in Gloucester N.J. there was (is?) a gentlemen's club that doesn't close until 5am. Out there where the original G.W. (George Washington) probably road this Revolutionary trail straight through a crop of Hessian soldiers after landing opposite the shore from Philadelphia, across the Delaware River. We all know the Christmas Eve when the snow flaked through the air and the General led a rowboat campaign to surprise the oppressors. A night not to be forgotten in the founding of the fledgling nation. However, we fast forward some 200+ years later to find this wagon trail path to be soiled with used car dealerships, burnt out industry and one locally famous gentlemen's club.

I can imagine the original G.W. riding his stallion down the modern day Black Horse Pike, horse hooves click clackin' on the asphalt. G.W. pauses to look at the progress from some 200+ years. The mobilization of capitalism and generations of Republican vs. Democrat and jobs sent to foreign lands. Left right in the wake is a strong nation still rising to meet its potential. G.W. strides up to the Fantasy Show Bar, jaw dropped, wooden teeth hitting the pavement. He's wondering, where are the morals, where are the scruples? All I see is dimples. The moral compass is buried beneath the asphalt, washed down the storm drains and discharged into the Delaware River.

Enter two riders, not on horseback, but stunting in a powder blue Toyota Tacoma pick up truck. They meet G.W. where the sidewalk ends.....

to be continued