I enjoy driving. I don’t even mind driving alone. 1700 miles in this last little trip. No one could have guessed that the weather would be perfect and I should have retired my snow tires in favor of my radials. The highways were mostly dry and the sky was mostly blue. Other than losing a tire mid trip (and me worrying about the others all the way home), my little car just rolled merrily along.
I don’t care, however, for those those wacko drivers. My cruise control is faithfully attended. That is why I know that I’m not the one with the inconsistent gas pedal. Does anyone else ever get exasperated when passing or being passed by the same car for the nth time? Or even worse, getting blocked in by a few cars that have drivers chit-chatting with passengers or someone at the other end of the cell phone. My biggest pet peeve is to be passed by a car, only to have it swerve quickly over in front of me and slow down. I told WR that I wished for magical powers on my way home. There was heavy traffic on I-205N through the Portland, Oregon area. A very small (and dirty) car changed lanes abruptly causing me to brake. Then, the little man held up his middle finger. He may have been holding it up towards the driver of the car in the other lane. I didn’t care. I just wanted to swish my Hermione wand and break it. (The finger.) Or, maybe just freeze it in place. I don’t know. If I hadn’t already discarded it, I could have thrown my soggy egg salad sandwich at him.
Lovely things about the road included a rest stop in Northern California where the trees and grounds were filled with red-winged black birds. Their music was nearly deafening, but ever so beautiful. I could sit and rest in their song had there not been so many miles and hours ahead.
One area on I-5 in northern California is being decorated with metal sculptures. I was especially impressed by a huge bronze sunflower reaching for the sky. For as long as I can remember, there has been a huge metal sculpture of a range cow. It can be seen from several miles away. Not too far up the road there is now a huge dragon.
The Oregon roads and rest areas are well maintained. Unfortunately, I think there is a roving band of beggars that use the restrooms as their headquarters. They stay within the time constraints and then rotate to the next rest stop. The next group moves in and sets up in their place. I truly think it is an organized venture.
I can’t help but feel like I’ve experienced a real life Brigadoon when dropping into the beautiful green valleys and farmlands in central Oregon. Especially this time of year when the grassy pastures are emerald, accentuated by the whites and pastels of the early spring blossoming trees. Even the Angus and Hereford cattle seem to have vibrant colors against the hills and the backdrop of the season.
I purposely pulled off the freeway to fill up with gas in a place called Cottage Grove. My late mama reminisced with such yearning about meeting up with friends there, that my childish vision of the place was magical. Spring’s magic was certainly apparent. I need to go back and spend more time.
The wind greeted me as an old foe when I entered the Columbia River Gorge. I was driving into it. I call it a friend when I get a tail wind! Either direction, it provides another exciting weekend for wind surfers and parasails – at the wind surfing capital of the world.
Not much snow in the Blues when I got home, but the weatherman predicted the weather would cool and it would arrive up in the higher elevations. Rain predicted for the valley. I’m glad to be home. Now I just need to get back into the rhythm.
(short video of grands. 19 month old Caboose, singing "Twinkle, Twinkle." Two and a half year-old Dinkum teaching 9-month old Smurfella how to pat-a-cake, Dinkum and 4 1/2 year-old Zbub using their super powers to rescue the cul-de-sac, and Smurfella rocking it with a guitar.
Four Grands from pamela on Vimeo.
16 hours ago