MICROWAVE AND INTERSTATES

29 July 2018–Jon on his dragster Goldwing, a.k.a., F6B, and I on Trafalgar departed Friday for a Saturday rendezvous in Yakima.  Our goal: avoid the Central Oregon interstate, or otherwise known as State Route 97.  Riding on interstates is like cooking with a microwave, cut the Mylar bag open or peel bag the plastic and pop it in the nuker for a few seconds and dinner is ready.  I’d rather ride like the way I like my food, prepared with adventurous ingredients, chopped and sliced, and cooked slow on the stove or in the oven.  With the exception of a few miles to get over the Cooker River Canyon between Madras and Terrebonne mission was accomplished.   The roads were a combination of straightaways through ranch country and twisty, 10 mph turns, into and out of canyons.  We took a break at Lake Simtustus’ Fraser’s Deep Canyon Grill & Pelton Store.

After a hour and half cigar break, we headed up through the Warm Springs Indian Reservation, keeping the speed within the limit, offering up no excuse for the redskins an excuse to get revenge on us white men.  It was a beautiful ride through a topography rich with canyons and plateaus.  I mapped a route on Tom (my trusty GPS) but some of the roads were dirt, and Jon preferred good ol’ American asphalt.  

Finally, we reached Jon’s mom’s hometown: Dufur, Oregon.  We went into the local recommended Kramer’s Market for lunch.  I order up some pulled pork and sat with some dry wheat farmers.  It turned out the man knew Jon’s Mom and her entire family, so I endured the stories about his relatives for the last 60 years.  It was entertaining, kind of like listening to a war vet’s war stories.

Jon told me he hadn’t traveled much in his life, so I took him to a third world.  We took a back route into The Dalles, and rolled into a Bangaluru five-star hotel, a.k.a., the Oregon Motel.  We turned out to be the only ones within a 10 mile radius that spoke English as a primary language.  We checked in and I gave him a call to meet me for some whiskey, but he didn’t answer.  Come to find out someone cut the handset cord.  Someone also was kind enough to leave their pubic-hair-encrusted bar of shower soap for his use.  We did have our Whiskey, Jon said he needed a triple–the world travel!

The next day we bombed up to Yakima via the perfect motorcycle Rt 142.  With a stop at Lil’ Brown Smoke Shack, avoiding the shit-over-flowing-portable-potty.  After cigars in a carport, we took the short ride to the Oxford Inn for our cigar Here with several police officers from the Seattle area.  This included lots of alcohol, cigars, adequate Mexican food, and a $40 Uber to nowhere.

1 July 2018–A boring ride back to Bend via 97, except for a diversion through some switchbacks into and out of Antelope, OR.

MISSION COMPLETE.