Troutdale is a heavily used truck stop. There are trucks and truckers everywhere. Seemed a no- brainer to do a series. I used to wait tables in college at a diner frequented by truckers. From that experience I knew that while they can be gruff sometimes (I know I would be cranky after 14 days of driving), they are typically good people; they’ve got plenty of hilarious stories and more importantly (at that time at least) across the board they were the best tippers. All things being equal, I’d pick the trucker tables over the business lunch crowd any day. Regardless, the idea of hanging out at a truck stop talking truckers into letting me take a photo to do a painting off of was a little intimidating. Actually, to be honest, the idea scared the hell out of me.

I talked to my friend Cliff who tried to help me analyze exactly what I was afraid of. When that didn’t work, he resorted to calling me a chicken and all sorts of other juvenile names. I’m ashamed to admit that’s what worked. I’ve spent the last few mornings at the truck stop catching the truckers after they filled up and were going inside to pay or grab a Coke.

Some I only talk to for a few minutes, others I talked to for up to 45 minutes. I met truckers from all over the U.S. and even ones from Rio, London, and India. Richard Montgomery (“Like Montgomery, Alabama… but I’m from OMAHA!”) just turned 50 but maybe looks 40. We talked about everything from Paris Hilton to Condoleeza Rice, of course that led to Iraq, then Syria…somehow ended up talking about Orwell’s “1984”, the collapse of the bridge in Minneapolis…he did a hilarious impression of an American talking to an Iraqi (he wants to be a comedian some day). My guess is this guy spends most of his time driving listening to news and talk shows. He’s very well informed and a lot smarter than he thinks. The one and only female driver I saw was from Wisconsin and was very excited about getting her photo taken for a painting. Tarry’s been driving for 11 years and LOVES her job. She’s an evangelist spreading the Word and she’s got more energy than she seems to know what to do with. A very funny lady. There were many many good stories. This is going to be a fun series.

Here are a few pieces in various states of finish. The woman by the way is an attendant at the station, not Tarry.

Ken and Mary made it back into town yesterday. Their home away from home is a Holiday Inn up the street. The same place I do my drive by blogging/email postings from. I swing into the parking lot and take advantage of the fact that wi fi doesnt magically stop at their walls. The other day though, I needed power and more importantly, I hadnt had my coffee yet. Ken had introduced me to several staff members before he left in case I needed anything.I went into the lobby and figured I should say hi to the manager, let her know what I was up to. Mind you I had met her before. Ken had even told her who I was, what I’m doing here, and we had chatted a bit. She seemed pretty friendly at the time.

I realize a lot of people come through there, so I wasn’t horribly surprised when my greeting was met with a blank stare. I tried again by reminding her I was Ken’s friend. Her eyes narrowed and she gave me the evil eye. This wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped. I just wasn’t exactly sure why. Did she think I was going to steal a cinnamon roll? Maybe she’d seen me in the parking lot and didn’t appreciate that. She finally spoke: “You’re not Mary.”

Uh-oh. Not at all what I thought it was.

Mary thought it was pretty hilarious.

July 27th was a very sad day. After valiant attempts to resuscitate, my ipod was officially pronounced dead by the Genius at the Bridgeport Apple Store just outside of Portland.

My ipod is dead. No more music.

It’d been acting strange for a while. Occasionally it would get confused. The symptoms were there– started to tire easily; scrolling through the music list would leave fragments of text on screen — I just hoped it would hold out a little longer.

I’m on a road trip and my ipod is dead. This is catastrophic.

The Apple Genius felt my pain. I gained full sympathy when he learned my plight : on a road trip and far far away from my back up disk. He really tried everything to bring it back; or at least save the music. Several geniuses tried to help, talking to each other under their breath like I wasn’t supposed to hear. They kinda rallied as each learned the horror of my situation. A road trip without music?! Get Josh over here…It was a valiant effort. I think I saw a little tear in his eye when the guy called the official time of death: 6:12pm.

Sure, I can replace it, but we had such good times. Flying up the coast of California listening to godawful one hit wonders from the 70’s (and knowing every word)…. Easing into my first day in Oregon with Dustin O’Halloran and later rocking out with the Frames. Neil Young seemed an appropriate soundtrack for Mt. Hood. This is just too sad.

I really tried though. For God’s sake, I spent an entire day at a MALL trying to save it. I didn’t even paint. I went to two malls in fact (The Genius bar was booked at the first one….) Those who know me well understand what pure dedication that was. It takes a lot to get me near a mall.

If you ever go see your friend’s band play at a bar and (hypothetically of course), lets say you park your car in another restaurant’s parking lot, and suppose you (as smart as you are) miss the significance of a big iron gate that obviously shuts across the drive way, and you read the sign that says “customer parking only” but youre late and it’s a one way street and you’re not really sure where you are so you don’t want to have to drive around the block if you miss the bar and you’re thinking “Gosh that parking lot is SO well lit I can even read the sign that says ‘cars left over night will be towed’ ….Gee, I sure will feel safe coming back to my car in such a well lit parking lot!” then you go see your friend’s band play and my, oh my—they play rocking good blues well into the wee hours of the morning and afterwards you go waltzing back towards your car thinking gee that was fun… until you’re stopped dead in your tracks as you realize what exactly is wrong with this picture: the restaurant closes before the bar (the locked gate between you and your car being the clincher)…. its really best not to panic. Its best to go back to the bar, take heed of the bartender’s advice and leave a message on the restaurant’s answering machine telling them what a lovely time you had at their fine establishment. So good, in fact, that you lost track of just how many beers you had and took a cab home. That way, when the owner/ manager comes in the next morning and sees a car with (Gasp!!) California plates on it, and goes to the phone to call the tow truck, he/she will notice the blinking light (hopefully), and will listen to the message (preferably before calling the tow) and will (hopefully) have pity on the drunk but responsible customer. Much better odds than him/her having pity on the completely sober but idiotic person who thinks they can park anywhere. That way its only a 20 mile cab ride home (yeah, suck it up….), not a cab ride home plus get your car out of the impound. Just a suggestion. I wouldn’t know but it sounds like it could work.

Last week I drove to Mt. Hood. Drove all around it, in fact, but never saw it. Lots of trees and clouds, but no mountain. The thing about Oregon is that it rains. A lot. I’d forgotten what that’s like. It actually never occurred to me that it might be raining in July. I’ve been in LA too long.

Yesterday morning, I saw blue sky so I jumped in the car and headed to the mountain. Its about a half hour to Mt Hood from where I’m staying. I must be getting ready to leave here because the drive felt way too short. I really wanted to keep going. Doesn’t really matter where to, I just love a good road trip. Always have. The day after I got my driver’s license, my friend Tristen and I took off on a road trip to the top of California to see my sister. I think our bags were packed before I even took the test. We were gone in less than 24 hours.

I think I need to drive across the U.S.

Some random thoughts/observations/ little stories for the day:

In California, if you see a big truck with monster wheels, you can be pretty certain that there is a bumper sticker on the back window that says “No Fear” or “Bad Boyz” (so clever!—See? it’s a Z not an S). In Oregon, especially in the southern part of the state, the sticker will say “ Get R Done”. They too are clever, so they flip the R backwards. Or maybe its an homage to Toys R Us.

People in Oregon actually say hi when they pass you on the street. They make eye contact too. Sometimes they even start a conversation. They’re weird that way.

When they ask how you’re doing, they actually wait for an answer.

It’s a little different though if you are in a car with California plates. I was pulled off to the side of a dirt road somewhere near Mt. Hood when a guy pulled over. I think he assumed I was lost or needed help (logical enough). He didn’t fully believe that I knew where I was because he insisted I take his map. The second or third question he asked in the natural chit chat was “Yeah, I noticed you have California plates…You’re not going to stay here are you?” He was dead serious…and sincerely wanted to know. It reminded me of the bumper stickers that were very popular a decade or so ago: “Welcome to California. Now GO HOME!” Regardless, it was nice of him to stop.

The studio I’m working in is next door to the Army Corps of Engineers. Last week, Gary (from the Corps) took me on a tour of the Bonneville Dam. Actually he took almost the entire day to show me the dam and parts of the Columbia Gorge (Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!!). As an added fashion bonus, I even got to wear an Army Corps of Engineers hard hat! Didn’t get a picture of that, so you’ll just have to imagine it.

They’re refurbishing some of the generators so they had giant parts laying about and massive holes where the stuff was supposed to go. OK, that’s an incredibly simplified version of what they were actually doing but it was pretty cool.

I’m only semi-mechanically inclined. By that I mean I can take things apart and put them back together without any “extra” parts at the end, but I rarely know how the thing works. I’m a good puzzle solver. My sister and I changed the carburetor on my bug when I was in high school– impressing both my brother and my mechanic–but I have only the vaguest idea what a carburetor does.

At any rate, I got the grand tour, was walked around the facilities and shown the giant rotors and turbines and the gaping hole where it all comes together. I can look at the parts and envision how they all fit together but after that…. Um…The part with the blades sits in the Columbia River, the water turns the blades and presto-magic, Oregon, Washington, and parts of California have electricity! There’s my high-tech explanation which will surely leave Gary on the floor laughing (I have a feeling I just failed the test….)

This is a one man elevator with barely enough room to turn around. These guys are extremely safety conscious; you have to sign in everytime you use it because it goes down into a confined space. Of course, this guy dutifully filled out the form. If he hadn’t, he would have been mortified to see someone at the top taking photos. If he hadnt followed protocol, his buddies just might have convinced him the woman with the camera was from Safety Engineering… at which point all color would have drained from his face.

(the elevator)

(the shaft)

Speaking of the shaft, some guy has to crawl through this tiny door and weld all day. That’s Gary pointing to give size perspective:

Part of the Homeland Security Act resulted in lots of fancy new equipment for the dam. I got to go up and take pictures of it all but I have a feeling I shouldn’t post them. All you really need to know is this: If you are out hiking within a few miles (yes, miles) of a facility deemed worthy of Homeland Security funding, and say you think you’re in a private place where you can duck behind a bush to pee…its not probable but it is possible that someone is watching… and laughing.

Afterwards we went to a fishery where I was completely repulsed and fascinated by these suckers: