Greetings from rainy southern Oregon!
There are moments in life when a person has to take an "out of body" perspective on it all and surf the wave. Such was yesterday evening in a torrential down pour, in a borrowed truck, loaded down with garbage, and a smokin engine. So, where to begin? First of all, this blog report coincides with Mike and Diane's move out. Sad news. It is hard to imagine Thanksgiving any place other than their beautiful home along the North Umpqua. The good news is this is what they wanted to do and they were able to sell their home within a month of listing it. Given the economic climate and depressing housing market, this is a wonderful blessing. The move necessitated borrowing my buddy Ron's truck (This is Ron, Leo and I at a GermanElvis party). After a few loads up to mom's place, Diane asked me to make a dump run.
I was pushing the 6 oclock closing hour and the Duck football game was starting at 5. Not the kind of timing to be breaking down. But when is it ever a good time to break down? In fact, I was pretty darn lucky because I had backed the truck up to the landfill bin and was set to unload when smoke and steam started billowing out of the front end. Douglas County is unique in a number of ways. A trip to the dump is no exception. For one thing, dumping your trash is free. You wouldn't believe what people throw away there. While I was stuck I witnessed at least three different truck loads that went far beyond your typical household waste. On each occasion the people were literally tossing the kitchen sink. BRING recycling out of Eugene would have a field day. I mean we are talking some reusable stuff. The people were probably still paying off their credit that they used to buy the couch I watched them toss. Unbelievable. So anyway there I was stuck in a borrowed truck in the rain. The guys doing their community service were quick to get under the hood and diagnose my problems. "You gotcha yer self a broken radiator hose," one fella said with a Sara Palin wink. That explains all the green coolant spilling onto the pavement. Another guy had already grabbed the hook they use to yard out "valuables" from the bins. "Looky there," he pointed at a bit of rubber hose laying in a pile of discarded treasures. It was like an episode of McGyver. I mean with this crew I could probably build biodiesil motor home and spend the rest of my days riding out the American dream. I was able to fill up a bunch of old milk jugs with water and listen to the radio as one the guys emptied the back of my truck. Luckily my uncle Steve was helping on the move and showed up in time before the guys at the dump had jerry rigged my truck. We were able to cut off the hose with the rip and re-attach the good end to the valve. Problem solved. The dump had been an incredible sociological freak show...
