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| 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;
Oregon Coast Military Heritage Museum
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!
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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...
