November 2, 2016 § 18 Comments
I want to take a minute to introduce you to a real estate professional named Frank Ponce. Mr. Ponce has recently been active in protecting his city from ugly, useless, poorly planned bicycle signage in his community.
Mr. Ponce operates in Palos Verdes Estates and is one of the great real estate professionals of our time, a man who can help you achieve your dreams. One of the recommendations on his web site is the purchase of this amazing book:
Matthew A. Martinez has come out with yet another incredible book with no gimmicks on how to make money in real estate in the new economy. Matthew is truly
the Warren Buffett of real estate investing. I urge you purchase this book if your are a real estate professional or an investor.
Those get rich quick schemes like flipping houses is for the birds. There is no speculation here. These are sure ways to building your real estate empire within this book. Click on the image to find out more.
In addition to recommending this incredible book with no gimmicks, and his unconventional grammatical use of “your are,” Mr. Ponce also dabbles in subject-verb disagreement, another cutting edge writing technique that is sure to get your attention and keep you focused on the excellent services he provides. (Disclaimer: I have bought a copy of this book and it is really incredible, with no gimmicks. I expect that, with the amazing tips from this book, I will soon be able to buy the apartment building in which I currently live. Thank you, Mr. Ponce!!!)
“But who is Frank Ponce?” you may be asking. I know I did. It turns out that he is one of those true success stories in PVE who hales from just north of Dodger Stadium, a guy who started with nothing and pulled himself up by his own bootstraps to be the realtor he is today. As Mr. Ponce tells it in the “About Me” section of his web site:
I got my first taste of income properties when I was still in Junior High School working for my father and helping him manage his motels.
There’s nothing tougher than working for your dad and helping him manage his motels, plural. The hours are long and the boss is really tough on you because you have to make your bed and keep your room clean. Plus, you start at the bottom and remain there for weeks. From these humble beginnings, Mr. Ponce developed a truly humanitarian approach to life and success, an appreciation of couches, and an approach that has served him well. In Mr. Ponce’s own inimitable words:
Landlording is perhaps the single most important service anyone can provide because you are providing a roof over a family’s head. Landlording is probably the world’s second oldest profession and certainly the most lucrative. Properly managed, a good piece of income property is the closest thing you will ever come to a real live, self-propelled, self-generating money machine.
Well, who doesn’t like a self-generating money machine? Probably the same stupid people who don’t like made-up words like “landlording.” And any salesman who can juxtapose his profession with prostitution and do it with a smile, well, that’s the guy you want to entrust with the sale of your attractive, one-of-a-kind bridge in Brooklyn. Trust me.
However, Mr. Frank Ponce isn’t just a practitioner of the oldest profession after the oldest profession and the owner of a real, live, money machine. He’s also a community guy who cares about the little people he owns. Listen to Mr. Frank Ponce:
But, I am not just a landlord. I get involved in the city that I buy in. I am a member in the Chamber of Commerce, and help create Landlord clubs to help eliminate crime in certain neighborhoods. In being a landlord one needs to remember that you are the owner of a small community, and you have the power to make that little community a better place for people to live in.
It is pretty awesome that Mr. Frank Ponce never forgets, even for a moment, that he is the owner of a small community, and that making communities safer is job number one. Of course sometimes when you are landlording you have to sell the little community you own and care for, but life can sometimes be harsh. Mr. Ponce has some good advice for how to go about dealing with the little people who you own. e.g “tenants.”
Doing a thorough inspection of the exterior and interior of the property will afford you the opportunity to potentially find anything in disrepair and fix it. Of course, you don’t want to alarm or alert tenants to the fact that you will be selling the property. Just tell them that you are doing an annual inspection and give them 24 hours notice.
It may seem cruel to lie to the little people community that you own and to leave off apostrophes, but sometimes this is necessary. In addition to helping people as a landlorder, Mr. Ponce has been very active defending the Lunada Bay Boys on Mom’s Couch. Some members of this group of upstanding citizens have been sued for criminal gang activity that involves allegations of decades-long harassment and violence against non-resident surfers at Lunada Bay.
Mr. Ponce wants you to know that Palos Verdes Estates is a family friendly place, and that these allegations are ridiculous. Mr. Ponce, in a wide-ranging, intelligent, and reflective interview about the allegations of gang activity directed against outsiders, notes that as a local resident “I have NEVER had any problems with any of the surfers there.” Of course there are two sides to every story, even if the other one is completely wrong, like this one.
Mr. Ponce is similarly dismissive of the oldest profession, which it turns out includes the media. He vigorously defends the family-friendly nature of Lunada Bay in this interview with LA Weekly:
“I’m really disgusted with the media,” says Frank Ponce, who’s lived in Lunada Bay since 1998. “They’re a bunch of prostitutes. There are no gangs down there, I can tell you that right now. You get a couple idiots who cause trouble. But for the most part, everyone there, they’re older people, they just have fun and surf.”
Of course the fun-loving may include a bit of rock throwing, a touch of vehicle vandalism, a few punch ’em ups, the occasional rape threat, and the privatization of public land. However, as a valued customer you should understand that this will not happen if, like Mr. Ponce, you are a local resident of PVE. In fact, once you purchase your home you will get to know and love these fun-filled defendants. According to Mr. Ponce, “They loan me their kayaks. They are really nice people. They are business owners.”
As a real estate professional, Mr. Ponce appreciates the illegal surfer patio built by the Lunada Bay Boys on Mom’s Couch, usurping public land for private, unpermitted use. “I go down there with my kids,” Ponce said. “I use that shack to barbecue.” Although it’s unclear whether little apartment people in the communities he owns can also use the patio, as a landlorder in PVE you probably can.
As Mr. Ponce, along with Garrett Unno, Zoe Unno, Cynthia Bianchi, and Shannon Zaragoza stand up against the real gangsters in Palos Verdes Estates–the bicycling gangsters–I hope you support him with your patronage by buying a home from him. If your children enjoy riding bicycles, Mr. Ponce can explain to them that PVE is really not a very good place for that.
They can, however, take up surfing.
I’ve set up a store on Shopify where you can buy South Bay Cycling items, the purchase of which will help pay for food/drinks/snacks at the Nov. 8 PVE City Council Bike Ride and Pizza Party, as well as for advocacy to fight the evil of people like the Unnos, Cynthia Bianchi, Shannon Zaragoza, Frank Ponce, and the Lunada Bay Boys on Mom’s Couch who zealously oppose bicycle signage.
And for $2.99 per month you can subscribe to this blog and support people who support cycling, on and off the bike. Click here and select the “subscribe” link in the upper right-hand corner. Thank you!
December 22, 2012 § 5 Comments
Too many days there are too many things that happen for me to organize them into a theme or even a coherent thought, so the day goes by and so much that needs saying goes unsaid, or in my case, unblogged!
Today, in no particular order except the first item:
- Prez showed up for the Donut Ride in full Santa kit. No, you don’t understand. I mean full Santa kit. His tall black Santa boots were fitted over his cycling shoes so that his cleats could lock into the pedals. His Santa hat was fixed to his helmet so that it flopped but the helmet was rock solid (protecting what, we’re not sure). He had red cycling shorts. Yes, red. As in the color red. He had a red jersey. He had red gloves. Aside from being the most amazing get-up I’ve ever seen on a bike, he did the genuine Santa impersonation by Going to the Front as we rolled out of Redondo Beach, then pulling the other reindeer (all 100 of them, including Dopey, Stinky, Lazy, Bashful, Twitchy, Flinch, Crazy, Stupid, Slothful, Sexy, Naughty, and Embroey) up out of Malaga Cove and all the way to Lunada Bay. Santa, I’ve been naughty this year. I hope that means I get a whip or some handcuffs.
- Stathis the Wily Greek unleashed a tour de force on the Switchbacks. The wankoton sucked eggs all the way to the bottom of the climb. Then he let loose. I followed for ten seconds before blowing. It shattered the entire field. None could follow. John Hall, Craig L., and several others duked it out for the scraps. Mark Alvarado got shelled, but then blasted by me at the end in an amazing show of speed. Eric Anderson climbed with the climbers. Keith, Marco, Rico, others all represented.
- Marshall P. rode like a champion up Zumaya. At the tail end as I was about to overhaul him he gave a big kick and was gone. Kudos!
- Tink is riding “at power.” This means she goes faster than 99% of all the other riders but doesn’t ever accelerate or attack. 2013 is going to see some scalps hanging from her coup stick. Glad I don’t race against her.
- The Serfas handlebar-mount headlight (500 lumens) is awesome. More about that in a separate post.
- Nite Ryder lighting systems just went from fave to frown. More about that in a separate post.
- Todd Buckley and Rahsaan Bahati put together an all-day ride to Camarillo. All-star cast included Charon, Suze, and many others. Wish I could have made it.
- Pischon Jones is down at least 15 pounds. I saw more lean meat on that boy than you could find at a Weight Watchers convention. Dude has the discipline hat on. Props!
- SoCal cyclists are so weather-wussified it’s hilarious! MS, before the Donut started: “Gosh, I’d forgotten how cold it is here in SoCal!” It was about 50 degrees. He’s coming from two years of school in Jamaica, and after the holidays is moving to Chicago. Does it ever get below 50 in Chicago in the winter? Har!
- Joe Yule got the hardware out of his elbow this week, and he and Manny Guzman got into a “Whose 13-inch elbow scar is gnarlier?” photo contest on FB. Not for the queasy of stomach…
- Great bike sales and seasonal deals in the South Bay at Bike Palace, Sprocket Cycles, PV Cycle Center, and Manhattan Beach Cycles.
- Super nice waves this morning at the Cove. Indicators was breaking, and so was Lunada Bay. SoCal cyclists may be weather wussies, but it’s pretty cool to be pedaling your bike in late December in sunny, warm weather while gorgeous sets roll in on the point.
- Dave Jaeger’s French Toast Ride approaches. It’s going to be grim.
- SPY Optic and Ride Cyclery have two big holiday rides, one on 12/24 and one on 1/2. The 12/24 ride will be a swords-drawn survival of the cruelest. You have been warned!
‘Nuff for now. Gotta shop. My, uh, favorite family activity…
October 26, 2012 § 22 Comments
I got up and had a banana. My mind was teeming with all the things that lay in wait the rest of the day. Then I had two cups of coffee. In each cup of coffee I poured some nonfat milk and a tiny, really tiny, dollop of heavy cream. I rolled out just after 6:00 AM, met up with Bull and rode to the Center of the Known Universe.
We rode the New Pier Ride, which was fast and hard and into the teeth of a howling Santa Ana crosswind. Afterwards I bought more coffee at Peet’s, cut it with some nonfat milk and another dollop of half-and-half, and sat on the bricks in the morning sunshine at CotKU. My mind was a jumble of thoughts and memories and stories and reactions and questions and plans and ideas.
Then I went to the office, showered, had an apple, and worked until eleven. So many problems and angry people and odd ins and outs and procedures and letters and emails and faxes and more angry people and worried people and just people. All of them crammed inside my head, my tiny head.
At eleven I went down to the Coffee Bean and Tea leaf with a new graduate who’s awaiting his bar results. We had coffee. I put half-and-half in mine, feeling like a lawbreaker. A brazen lawbreaker.
The rest of the day force fed my mind with all the things it had in store.
I went back to the office and ate lunch. Lunch consisted of a can of tuna packed in water dumped into a bowl. Atop the tuna I cracked a raw egg and mixed it with the tuna and some pepper. Then I ate it with two tortillas and a baby Fuji apple for dessert.
I worked until five. Then I had a cup of coffee and four peanut M&M’s. They are twelve calories each.
After a full day of work my head was heavy as a big, rough stone that someone had moved with a bulldozer. I left the office just past five-thirty. My head was so heavy and swollen I could barely cinch my helmet strap.
As I pedaled home the wind blew strong in my face, passing Joe’s house, thinking about him and the six-day bike odyssey upon which he and the other Man Tour riders have just embarked. I turned along Esplanade in Redondo Beach. The wind was now at my back, blowing hard. The sun was quickly dropping onto the horizon. The breakers had been whipped up into large, ragged swells by the wind. Despite the poor form, several surfers were out bobbing in the whitecaps, seeking a few seconds of size and intensity.
The straightest way home is up Via del Monte. Left turn.
But I turned right at Malaga Cove and dropped all the way down to the water. Then I did the steep climb up by the little bay and popped out onto PV Drive.
The sun was mostly in the water.
The straightest way home was now PV Drive all the way to Hawthorne. I turned right on Paseo del Mar, went right at the elementary school in Lunada Bay and took the sharp, short, hard little spike up the secret alleyway.
The sun was gone but the afterglow threw out plenty of sunlight as dusk began to settle.
The straightest way home was Hawthorne. I turned right at Calle Entradero and descended back to the water. People walked peacefully with their dogs. One lady in a billowing dress was taking a photo of a landscape that made her happy. I climbed the little wall back up to PV Drive.
Now I was at Hawthorne. The shortest way home was straight. It was vaguely dark, or rather deep dusk. I switched on my tail light and turned right, did a u-turn at the Starbucks, and headed the other direction on PV Drive back towards Lunada Bay.
The wind was in my face. A group of three bikers came whistling down Hawthorne and raced away, their red strobe tail lights taunting me to chase. The light turned green, but I didn’t chase.
I reached Via Zumaya and turned right, flicking on my headlight. I was now bathed in sweat. The thought occurred to me that my entire engine had run from morning to this point on a few hundred calories. I wasn’t really hungry, and my legs felt fresh.
It was now dark. The headlight cut a sharp beam, delineating the pavement. The moon was brilliant.
I glided up the climb, not going hard, but not giving in to gravity, either.
The moonbeams got stronger the higher I got, or maybe they made me higher.
At Coronel Plaza I turned right and merged with another rider. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he said.
I climbed Ridgegate alone, the moonlight clearing everything from my mind except the rhythmic turning of the pedals.
There was nothing left in my mind, nothing at all, except this: “I wonder what’s for dinner?”
That, and a few moonbeams.