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About San Jose

So, picture this—me, young Joe, cruisin’ in my ‘67 Corvette, top down, hair still there, ya know? I’d never—never—go lookin’ for that kinda trouble. But my buddy Mike? Hoo boy, he’d drag me along, sayin’, “C’mon, man, live a little!” We’d roll up to some dive bar—neon flickerin’ like it’s half-dead. This one time, ‘round ‘82, Mike spots this gal—fishnets, red lipstick, smokin’ a cig like she owned the joint. He’s all, “Joe, she’s the one!” I’m thinkin’, “Fear’s takin’ over my head now”—like in the movie, ya get me?

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Now, sprawl thy gaze unto Northside Lane – where cozy nooks hide wondrous stalls and taverns to wet one's whistle. 'Tis a spot where mine own weary fingers have oft found solace after long days of kneading knots away. Ere those days, as I work mine art of healing touch, I observe the crowd gathered in Bicentennial Park (aye, true it is, nestled by the peaceful banks of the Emerald River – a name I bestow in secret admiration of nature’s flow).

Women's Tennis Ends Season With Win at Bowling Green