And Back to Vegas I Go…10/16-10/19

After spending a couple of weeks with Mom and Gene in Tonasket it was time to head back to Vegas.

My old POS made it back to Spokane without any issues and I dropped it off at Bill’s Import Auto Repair, a fairly small, modest shop in north Spokane.  They had been recommended as being good Subaru mechanics.  I spoke to the owner and told him he would have it until my return in December.  Actually there was a fair amount of discussion between us about what I was considering doing to POS, but I won’t bore you with it.

My brother Wes showed up and gave me a ride back to his house where Ryan’s Subaru was waiting.  We grabbed it, drove back to the shop, unloaded POS, and transferred it all into Ryan’s (including Rosa’s bike on the roof rack).

Prior to heading back to Wes’ I told him I wanted to pick up some .38 cal ammo.  He said the closest place was Warehouse Sports at the Northtown Mall.  As we arrived he directed me to the parking garage….WHAM!!  Yep, Rosa’s bike took a hell of a shock up there….FUCK (sorry folks, no easy way for me to say it).  Besides bending the seatpost, and breaking the Freeload rack, it managed to screw up the roof rack on the car.  After several minutes of frantic work at the top of the ramp we were able to get the bike off the roof and get the hell out of the parking garage.

The rack ‘had’ another level to it and the seatpost used to run straight within the steel frame. Thankfully I didn’t have a Thomson post in there or it would have bent the frame.











The rest of the afternoon/evening was spent watching Son’s of Anarchy episodes on Netflix with the occasional F-bomb uttered by me at random moments.

I hit the road with no determined destination, but was headed towards Hood River, OR.  This route took me through the Tri-cities of Pasco, Kennewick and Richland, WA.  The area that serves as home to the Hanford Nuclear site, as well as home for the pinhead who bought my beloved BMW vert earlier in the year.  I won’t go into a full-blown rant, partly because it would shine on my own foolishness, but mainly because it would be hard for anyone except pinhead and I to appreciate what happened next.  I decided to stop by pinhead’s workplace to let him know that the final check he had given me had failed to clear and to let him know of my displeasure at having to detour to deal with it.  After a few minutes of discussion it was decided I would follow him to his house where he would make good on the final payment.  As we were driving on the freeway I began to see smoke blowing from the right rear tire.  It was as though my faithful old Beemer was letting me know it would serve no master like it had served me and to prove the point it decided to blow the tire apart in front of my eyes.  Mr. Pinhead wrote me another check on the side of the freeway with the understanding that it would clear the next day (it was promptly cashed the following morning).  Karma is always at work in my world.

I got into Hood River and spent a few wonderful minutes visiting with Ashley and catching up on her latest news regarding her desire to backpack through Europe next year.  She was preparing to open the doors at the sushi house where she works so I didn’t want to take up too much of her time and hit the road to Camas, WA.  Camas is only about an hour and a half away.  I was looking forward to seeing Brandon and Kirsten.  I had met them on my previous visit to Camas and was looking forward to seeing them again.

Brandon and I had a few drinks and some dinner prior to Kirsten showing up.  It gave us some time to discuss some potential business ideas of mine.  Brandon is a shrewd businessman and is an expert in his chosen field of work.  I like being associated with people like this.  You people know who you are…or at least I know who you are.

We ended up going back to Brandon’s where I was graciously given the use of the guest bedroom for the night.  It was a night I won’t soon forget (although parts of it I would gladly if able).  To give you an idea, the next morning over coffee Brandon told me that Kirsten was afraid that he’d “killed the Dos Equis man”.  That brought a smile to my hung over head.

I hit the road again and had a sobering drive to south central Oregon.  For those of you who have never been in this part of the country…well, put it this way, there’s a reason you’ve never been here.  I hit the wide spot of Burns just as the sun was going down.

Mt. Hood seen from Hwy 26.
Mt. Jefferson seen from Hwy 97.











This is the type of landscape I was driving through in south central Oregon and north central Nevada. Pretty in its own right but not lots of vegetation.
However this is what I was driving along for the better part of seventy miles. What little grass and shrub there was had been burned to the ground.
And I do mean “burned to the ground”. The burn was on both sides of the hwy.











Winnemucca has this old M3 Stuart on display in their Veteran’s Memorial Park. I read the fictitious exploits of this tank and crew as a kid reading G.I. Combat’s, The Haunted Tank.
Vastly outgunned since it only had a 37mm main gun.
I found this old farmstead holding vigil over the road between Austin and Tonopah.
Stark contrast.
Just south of Beatty.










The rest of the drive through Oregon and Nevada were uneventful, but once again I was taken with the beauty of the Nevada skies.


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