The point of being in Bend was to get a few things taken care of on the
motorhome. It took a few days. Day one, the old couch is gone, the new one is in, the drop down visor, and
some interior curtains got fixed. Day two, an alignment correction on the
big laser guided alignment machine to make the rig handle as well as it
should. Day three, snap-on external sunshades to cut down the solar gain
from Imax when we’re parked. Day four, an improved tow-car braking system
and some paint touch-up on the outside cabinet door I dinged. Friday, out
of here, across the Oregon desert, headed for a new client in Woodland Park,
Colorado. Stopped for the night in Vale, Oregon. Saturday, continue across
the Great Basin in cloudy weather, through Idaho, stopping for the night in
Salt Lake City and a visit with Uncle Johnnie. Sunday, a short day through
deteriorating weather to stop for the night in Rawlins, Wyoming and watch
the Broncos crush the hated Raiders (it actually worked out that way).
Cold, snowy, and windy all day, but the roads stayed dry. The good news is,
it was a tail wind. Tonight, we’re rocking and rolling in high wind and thirty degrees.
Tomorrow, wind and snow permitting, the Boulder County Fairgrounds and
dinner with Brian, Becky, and family.
Bend
A frigid dawn. Three varied thrushes on the ground before the robins were
even awake. California Quail flapping, gliding, one by one, down from the
trees they roosted in for the night to land in the brushy area beside us.
Landing on the grass, scurrying into the bushes, careful not to reveal their
presence, then announcing it loudly with their charming calls. Probably
forty of them altogether. This sparsely populated RV Park really is a park.
Bend
Today we moved out of the motorhome and into the Jeep. Well, for a day
anyway. We get the coach back each night, to give it up again the next
morning. Moving into our car, but not as granddaughter Teigan envisions. Lying on the floor a couple weeks ago, having a late night, I’m not tired
and don’t want to go to bed conversation with Teigan, she asked: (you have
to read this in a tiny, carefully enunciated, four-year-old voice) “Grandpa,
why did you choose to move into your motorhome?” “We thought it would be fun.” (Remember the voice) “I don’t think it would be fun to live in my car.” Moving into the car, but not quite as Teigan envisions.
Bend
We celebrated an anniversary recently. November 1st, one year full-timing
in the motorhome. Three months of that in the new one.
Bend
Familiar places and names along the way. We didn’t drive by the Carroll
Park house, but we did stop in front of Grandma Taylor’s old house. The
small grass slope we used to roll down in the front yard to the sidewalk has
been reconfigured and is now a garden behind a retaining wall. The garages
are still out back but look better than they used to. The old apartment
building is still across the alley. In Northern California we see familiar place names on the map, Jedediah
Smith, McArthur Burney Falls, Susanville. Names we associate more with our
parent’s trips than our own. Northern California, halfway through Oregon, rain all day, snow at the
higher elevations, broken concrete gave way to asphalt north of Redding.
Bumpy asphalt gave way to smooth asphalt at the Oregon line. Settled in at
Villa Grove, south end of Bend, Rags the cat ensconced at the cat hotel,
motorhome ready to give up to the Beaver Shop on the north end of Bend
tomorrow morning. They’re going to change the couch out for us and fix a
few things. Can’t have the cat wandering in and out of the coach while
they’re working on it. Annie can stay with us, wherever that is.