Sunday, July 31, 2011

Learning male driving habits

Learning male driving habits

My dad enjoyed driving as much as I do. On random Sunday mornings, very early, he would say “Let’s go!”.
We usually drove east and he NEVER turned around and seldom stopped. My mother would see something of interest and point it out as dad drove passed, oblivious. We once ended up at the end of a gravel road far above Green Peter Dam’s site, then merely a deep canyon. He sat for a very long time peering ahead trying to figure out a way through, but finally turned and drove straight back home, defeated.
We often went over the Cascades on Highway 20, always stopping at the Mountain House Café for a hamburger and a visit with the cursing Myna bird. He was trained by the log truck drivers and had quite a vocabulary. Peterson’s Rock Garden, Lava Butte, the ice cave, the forest of petrified wood and many other wonders, waited for us on those long Sunday drives.
We visited all the dams on the Columbia, the redwood forest, all the Oregon coast, Oregon Caves, Mount Hood, and as far east as the Malheur county, always returning home very late, but in time for sleep before school the next day.
Today I drive all over the state gathering wine for Oregon Mozart Players’ annual auction, one bottle at a time. I hate to turn around, and seldom stop unless there is a blue sign nearby.

From the Oregon 150 Anniversary site

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