|TBF Avenger. (Image source: microworks.net)|
“Catch the Spirit, Catch the Spit.
Catch the Wisdom, Catch the Wit!”
(RUSh: Tom Sawyer - Moving Pictures, 1981)
Ah, the life of a Blogger, eh? As this riveting tale was originally intended to be posted last week but alas, like all good stories here at No Fenders... Uhm, some ‘Aussie F1 Bloke decided to make his retirement announcement and hence...
Thus, it was wonderful to once again get away from Zed Keyboard, Snarling traffic, the requisite thumm-Thum-Thumping POS Car’s Bass, the next door neighbor’s CRAPY ARSE Mustang exhaust which grows louder every time he works upon I-T! The Telephone and technology in general a Fortnight ago...
Although typically portions of the Sand Dunes are replaced by the relentless Brap-Brap-Brapping of various sorts of Off-road vehicles big ‘N small assaulting the Dunes, fortunately my trusty Travelin’ companion Mary Ellen took us to portions far away from the relentless noise pollution...
And the timing of said trip couldn’t have been better, since my chariot’s arrival wasn’t slated ‘til Sunday, first giving me ample time to watch/listen to the Milwaukee Indyfest on duh ‘Peacock-lite, which I don’t know ‘bout Y’all, but its IndyCar broadcasts clearly seem head ‘N shoulders above ABC’s, as NBCSN appears to actually give a SHIT while ABC simply sees I-T as an excuse to soak up money whilst plugging thee CRAP outta its competing Doublewide or Sprint Cup races; Yeehaw!
As I did find it funny that I wasn’t the only one ponderin’ this? As according to thee oldest IndyCar Blogger TWIT-ER was awash with these sediments; Err sentiments; Hya!
Alas, is I-T possible that thee fine folks at the Dizney Shoppin’ Networks (abc/espn) purposely tried to soil Indy Cars outlook for the “Casual Fan” during Primetime at TexArse? This is a steering wheel, each driver has one that he uses to make his car turn left or further left to go around the track and his fellow competitors; but I digress! (As hopefully we’re FINI with the ABC TV portion of the schedule...)
And my Chariot’s ride for this latest adventure, a trusty Y2k Dodge GRAND Caravan, albeit devoid of any rich Corinthian leather; Hya! Mini-van’s arrival was so late that I actually got to watch the re-airing of the night’s Wind Tunnel with Ye ‘Ol Windbag Dave Despain at 9PM Pacific - since I’d mistakenly thought it started at 5:30PM instead of 5PM originally.
Hence, our “excuse” for making said trip to Florence; NO! NOT that Florence, as in Mrs. Brady; Hooah! (Who’ll hopefully retire from her singing career...) But a somewhat sleepy ‘lil town on the Oregon coast upon the Pacific Ocean was to donate some very ancient World War II artifacts to the forthcoming;
Having squirreled away various books ‘N trinkets over the year’s - including a great vintage Spitfire poster, along with actual WWII Naval uniforms worn in battle by ‘Awntie Harriet’s brother Thomas who’d been a radio operator - this seemed the perfect way to let go of some of my “Prized Possessions” while also getting to spend some time with our good friends at ‘Beverly Manor.
As the weather was pretty much decent, albeit intermittent showers off/on first few days before getting to walk on the beaches several times along with taking in some GURR-REAT! Sunsets plus catching the fast approaching “Super Moon,” albeit of course it’d be totally cloudy upon the actual night in question! Although we did see a nearly FULL moon Friday night; not to mention getting to take a tiny barge ferry which held approximately 20-25 vehicles max - having no superstructure to speak of.
With the barge being pulled across by an underwater cable that seemingly was operated by electric winches? As this was the only machinery sound I could make out as the extremely short ride, five minutes? Cost 2-bucks for cars & $1 for motorcycles to cross upon the Willamette River which we unexpectedly took on our way south.
Disembarking said ferry, Mary Ellen pointed out how the local Sherriff’s patrol car was anxiously awaiting any speeders upon this portion of two-lane road which led us thru the lush, fertile Willamette valley - to which she spotted a fresh fruit stand on the side of the road, asking do you want any fresh Strawberries? SCREEEEEEEEEECCCCCCHHHHHH!!!! Otay, NOT that bad, just going for sound effects there, as Mary Ellen whipped the mighty Dodge Caravan round telling the older Gentleman Farmer selling them that we’d try not eating A-L-L of them before arriving at our friends Housianda to which he very cleverly replied back: “I WON’T TELL THEM!” As we chortled in unison to what seemed like a somewhat clairvoyant Sergeant Schultz moment; Ya Volt?
In what would become a comedic theme throughout our trip, I innocently asked what time is it. To which I was informed that the Dodge’s clock was some four hours and fifteen minutes fast! Not 4hrs or four and one-half, nope, it was four and one quarter hours ahead, which I suppose was better than being four and three quarter hours ahead for ryth-Muh-tickin’ sakes, eh? And thus for instance, we knew when the clock said 9:15PM it was really only 5Pm instead; Hya!
Chihuahua dog portrait. (Image source: commons.wikimedia.org)
For our first outing, we headed off to our favourite beach locale, off the beaten path as it gave access to the beach for a different type of “Horsepower,” a la Horsey-riders to which Mary Ellen promptly told me to take Pixie, her minnowesqu Chee-chee-chee-Chihuahua mix as she firmly held thee ‘Ol Lady, the Grumpy Miss Molly, a Tibetan-mix in her mitts as there were a group of six/eighth Horses headed directly towards us; YIKES!
OOH! Look at the cute puppy! (In regards to Pixie) Nearly all of the riders said as they passed us by very closely on Horses as we stood motionless in the tall grass adjoining the sandy path - which later on I’d remark about how I seemingly tended to “Push” as opposed to bein’ loose, which Y’all know is ‘RASSCAR slang for understeer and oversteer.
As we got further down the beach, we came across a sign telling us that Dogs, People and Kite flying was VERBOTTEN! Due to the newly erected signs claiming that it was vital to protect the habitats of the (controversial) Western Snowy Plover - to which I rambled on ‘N on about the FREAKIN’ Clover! Huh? I thought you were supposed to have SUPER hearing Mary Ellen retorted; Hee-hee-hee...
As it was actually Plover instead of Clover - and we’d somehow missed the signs prior to the trail warning us of this.
Since on a further day upon a different beach trail, we’d encounter a Nature Photographer who’d moved there from New England 15yrs ago who explained to us how it’s a total political Hot-potato! As the aforementioned Plover isn’t even a native species, having migrated from the Desert, which of course NONE of the proliferation of ‘Offical signage we’d come across eluded to this, instead just claiming that they were historically linked to the region instead.
Yet the man told us a funny story about how the whole local population was up in arms about this, specifically the NO DOGS policy - claiming the first erected sign declaring this brand new policy lasted a total of eight-hours before magically disappearing!
Yet he cautioned us upon letting our FURR-rocious Dawgie’s off of their leashes, saying that they (Park Dept ‘Ossifers) are quite ANAL about the new regs’ and we could be fined several hundred dollars for a bird that’s NOT even native, so please be careful...
A few more sites of interest we passed upon our journey were:
- The D-river
(Shortest river in America, according to its sign)
- Depot Bay
- 45th Parallel
- Cape Petchalence
(Equals Tomaso-ism for what’s actually Cape Perpectua)
- Cape Kiwanda
(Skipped I-T this time, as I wasn’t inclined to do the Death Hill march!)
- Smuggler’s Cove
- “Astoria Triangle”
Also stuck my white cane in the Columbia River (a first) on way home after camping overnight at campgrounds just north of Astoria, which were Very nice campgrounds except for the F%%KING Fog horn that first BLASTED us at 8:30AM; Err, I meant 4:15AM; SHEISA! Which went off twice more, but fortunately it’s designed to only go off when there’s commercial “barge” traffic on the river, after what had been a very late night, finally arriving at said campground sometime near/after 11PM, I meant 3:23AM; Oh Never Mind!
As we’d become temporarily lost in what I quickly decried as the Astoria Triangle, since as darkness approached, Mary Ellen said our campground is about another hour away or should we just go to the nearby State Park campground in Astoria instead? Thus I suggested the latter since we’d been in the Dodge all day long, albeit having stopped at multiple spots along the coast including a great ‘lil somewhat unknown beach site before the day’s final outing at one of my now favourite spots known as Smuggler’s Cove where wetsuit clad surfers flock too, along with ‘Dawgie’s FREE to roam the beach...
Thus we turned around and drove a little while into the ever consuming darkness before we decided to turn back around, drove a little further and then said Otay, lets go there instead, turning back around again and driving forever before Mary Ellen said screw I-T and turned the Dodge back around again, since after having seen the sign we’d seen NOTHING else after having driven several miles! Then we arrived back in Astoria and Mary Ellen pointed out another sign to said State Park campground while silently in my head I said forget I-T! But we turned in the direction the second sign pointed and instead drove again in circles for several more minutes in what appeared to be truly out in the country as there weren’t ANY bright (city) lights anywhere’s... And after this 35-45+ minute of driving in circles, as Hey! Four lefts really DOES make a circle; Hooah! Guess what? She finally spotted the entrance to said campground with a FULL sign upon I-T; SHEISA! So off to her original planned campground instead... As all I could think of was how we hadn’t spotted the missing squadron of TBF Avengers; Hya! Although fortunately we’d managed to elude the grasp of that slippery Astoria Triangle, so YUK! Mission Accomplished, right?
Hence, not returning home ‘til 8:48PM; Err 4:33PM Sunday afternoon a week later, I missed A-L-L of the car racing going on ‘round the globe that weekend, i.e.; Le Mans, Iowa, etc. And although I’d taped six hours of Le Mans coverage, I did the unusual and elected to watch Ye ‘Ol Windbag instead and learn the results immediately, which typically I’m totally against doing, as I’d somehow totally forgotten about the Iowa IndyCar Cornfest; CRIKEYS!
And now that I’m back to trying to poond out riveting stories for Y’all, I find myself constantly wishing my extremely O-L-D 'Confuzer would work the way IT’S supposed 2; 'Whale actually the Zoomtext10.0 Screen reader portion that the AI Squared BASTARDOES FUCKED UP with their last Blockpoint change; (6/11) Blah-blah-blah!
As I thought I was off to finish watching my six hours of Le Mans tapeage, which we all know that sadly Allan Simonsen lost his life in, but alas, another impending Holiday plus this A-L-L consuming ‘BLOB thingy and news of Webber’s decision to go for a ‘Walkabout in Sports Cars got in duh way of ‘Dat, as I find it hilarious that I discovered the Webber story via the Minny Ha-Ha Star’s Motorsports page and that The Guardian didn’t have anything in its lately GOOBERED Sports section; Aye Karumba!
And after returning to Seattle’s typical gray, cloudy and wet weather, albeit it felt like we were in Hawaii Sunday afternoon as it sprinkled in extremely warm temperatures before I had a weather advisory for Thunderstorms ‘N Flooding upon my Telephone News service - which subsequently was replaced with a new warning for excessive HEAT which ended Monday night at 11PM; Yada-yada-yada.
As Seattle did indeed break its heat record for July 1st, albeit not as oppressive as the southwest’s, i.e.; Arizona, nevertheless since the majority of Seattleites DON’T have AC thus 90-degrees with 75-80% humidity is pretty nasty for us, as apparently it won’t be a typical Northwest Fourth which is usually inundated by that wet stuff commonly known as precipitation...
Although nice and toasty the past several Dazes, we’ve actually endured worse in the past which I scribbled ‘bout in another riveting blog post titled;
Although our unseasonably H-O-T weather is nothing compared to what the southwest just endured, with Scottsdale, AZ having endured 115-118+ degrees - making my Bing Bookmark weather page for Scottsdale making me laugh when it somehow defaulted to 85254 Germany and proclaimed it was an unseasonably cool 50-degrees; WTF? Not to mention the tragic fire sweeping thru Prescott, while ‘los wages (Las Vegas) was enduring the same climatic temps as AZ and Death Valley was expected to tip the scales at 129! Just shy of its all time record of 134; YIKES! So stay COOL Yuh’s Hear!
Happy 4th ‘Oh July, Y’all!
As never fear for A-L-L of uze sayin’ isn’t this supposed to be a racing blog? I’ll get back to the motorsports thingy next week...