Stories I Only Tell My Friends, The Bike Ride, Wet Tee-Shirt & the Law

I’ve been riding my bike to work for several summers. Yes, I am a fair weather bike rider. And it’s important for you to know I sweat. A lot.

July was particularly hot, almost 100 degrees which is significant heat in the green valley of Oregon. I was riding my bike home in my small black tight shorts and white tee shirt.

You should also know my bike is a purple cruiser with a book holder on the back and I wear a bike helmet and I am past the age of 18.

As I’m riding home all I can focus on is the reward of a tall glass of strawberry lemonade waiting in my refrigerator. I made a calculated decision to by-pass a stop sign on a residential street in order to reach my drink quencher. Not a car in sight as I pedaled a wee bit faster to make it home faster through the stop sign. And wouldn’t you know it, I hear a siren. Police siren. I thought I should pedal faster since I’m blocking his turn I’m certain. I pedal faster. The siren still sounds might close. I attempt another gear and pedal as fast as my legs will allow.  Then I hear, “you on the bicycle pull over.” Surely that voice isn’t after me so I look behind my shoulder to make sure and then I heard, “yes you, pull over.” Oh shoot, it’s me.

I had to hold my bicycle with one hand since I hadn’t (read my husband) hasn’t installed a kick stand. The police officer asks me if I know why he pulled me over.

“Why no.” I hesitantly say. Always deny. It’s that what you are suppose to do when pulled over a cop?

“Do you have identification?” the police officer asks me.

“It’s in my backpack.” I tell him. “May I open it?” I thought I should ask permission first. I didn’t want him to think I was hiding anything dangerous.

I balanced my backpack on my book holder and one handedly opens the pack to dig for the ID. The very first visible item is my bra. Great. I believe my ID is at the bottom of my pack. I pull out my grandma size white bra and placed it on my seat.

Next item, my underwear. I take out the purple leopard print underwear and place it on top of my bra. Sure wish I had something dangerous in my bag now. The police officer is all eyes.

“Where do you work?” He asks me and I know what he is really thinking, your undergarments don’t look like they both belong to you.

Finally, the ID. The police officer does the standard take the ID back to the police car to check for warrants or whatnots and tells me the price for running a stop sign is $179 bucks. At which point I told him I was going to pick up my bike and throw it at him. Without skipping a beat the police officer tells me we are being videotaped and points to his car and I actually turned around and wave (so the camera could get a good picture of me I suppose.) Luckily, the officer didn’t take my threat ….well as a threat and let me go with just a warning.

Needless-to-say, I was pretty miffed when I got home. Pulled over on my bicycle, gez. I thought a shower would cool me down. I glanced at the mirror and had to do a double take. I was wearing a white tee shirt and I had soaked it with sweat. Oh, that’s it. It was a wet tee-shirt contest and I was the riding billboard.

Glad the officer didn’t give me a ticket for obscenity.

I threw away the tee-shirt.

Prost.

It's FREE!

One weary coffee drinking blogger

Blogger. That’s what I am now. Can’t say I’ve mastered grammar as well as I have the commitment to post musing of my life weekly.  However, I must admit I’m a bit sad. Last week I had three people read my blog. Yes, three and I don’t even think one of those three people include my mom or my husband. So, I’ve considered a host of ideas to draw people to my blog.  Here is my list thus far:

1.   Free Beer. Oh wait, I don’t know if I can offer free beer since the legal drinking age is 21. I don’t even know if you can legally offer free beer much less allow those under 21 to view my blog.  Case in point, go to Widmer.com.  You must click on the button agreeing you are over 21 to even read about beer.  Scratch that idea.

2. Free Coffee. It’s not I’m into the free stuff but everyone should love coffee as much as I do and I just want to share that with the world. I realize not everyone shares my fondness. Plus, I have a couple good friends (okay you caught me only two) who are Mormon and I think one of them already reads my blog.

3.   Naked photos. That will capture attention. A couple of problems of posting nude photos. One, who would they be of to attract reads and not repeal? And two, do I really want those readers who want to look at nude photos on my blog?!?! Definitely scratch that idea.

4.   Can’t think of a fourth.  All of the other ideas running through my head are those free offers (be the 100^th person to read my blog and you’ll win a free computer. Everyone knows that no one gets the free computer.)  So I suppose I’ll have to address the lack of readership in another manner. Such as stop being  predictable. Me, predictable? Does everyone in the world know I love bacon on maple bars? Or that the color purple simply makes me happy?  Oops, maybe.

I suppose it all boils down to only getting people to the blog but to keep them as well. I do hope those who read are enjoying the content. My blog goals are to focus on travel, drink (e.g. coffee & beer) and a few adventures along the way. You can subscribe via RSS feed on the bottom of the page.

To the faithful three, thank-you.

The regular musing of adventure continues next week. For now, I'm heading off to have a beer for breakfast, with bacon and waffles. Until then.

Prost!

Martini's mixed with a Civil War

Inside our cabin for the weekend

We camped Labor Day weekend at Fort Stevens State Park, Oregon.

No pitching of tents. No labor involved, just camping and a Civil War. And not between rival football teams either but of the historical kind. It seems odd that Oregon would host civil war reenactments. Typically, Oregon is not the first, second or even the tenth state that we think of when attending or being at a Civil War reenactment. Fort Stevens located at the mouth of the might Columbia River and Pacific Ocean is the perfect place for US history.

For 84 years, the Fort was activated during the Civil War and closed at the end of World War II. In fact, the only shots on made on the centennial US during World War II as at this location by a Japan submarine. The US did not return fire because they didn’t want to give away their location. Long before these events, Lewis and Clark wonder these lands as well and made salt. (I think for margaritas?)

Besides the historical significant of this area litter with museums and Historical Marker sign this area offers: 

• ·         Seven mile street of beach complete with remnants’ of a ship wreck from 1891
• ·         Mouth of the Columbia river and plenty of wind to make a windsurfer paradise
• ·         Several miles of bike trails and hiking trails complete
• ·         A fresh water lake for the kids to swim in with life jackets to borrow for the day, free of charge.
• ·         Deluxe cabins.

The Deluxe cabins are the best of all.

Relaxing & waiting

My husband and I spent the better half of Saturday riding our bikes on all the trails and then down miles of roads to the river. Needless-to-say, after almost four hours of bike riding I was hungry and thirsty when we made it back to our cabin. I promptly plugged in our little mini-crock pot for dipping and added a variety of swiss and cheddar cheeses to melt. While waiting for the fondue, I mixed Martini’s. I never thought of myself as a Martini drinker. In fact I snickered at a couple last year who claimed the worst part of being in the country of Turkey and on vacation was missing Martini hour. I almost pity them for missing the great landscape and people of Turkey while they pined over lost Martini hour.  Now I sympathize. We polished off an entire bottle of vanilla vodka while our cheese melted.

I wonder if the dresses comes in purple

After the cheese fondue and a beer to wash it down with, we pedal to the Civil War Reenactment.  The cost of attendance is twenty bucks a car load or two dollars a person to pedal in. We pedaled. Drunk. Don’t tell my cop brother-in-law we were drunken bike riding.  Don’t worry too much, I didn’t fall off my bike, didn’t hit any trees, didn’t hit any pedestrians either as we made our down tree lined bicycle paths.

For the reenactment, many people were dressed in period clothing and the participants settled in for the weekend in traditional-looking camp sites. I am sure some of them were selling things.

As for the battle, the Yanks won. It was fun watching the cannons being shot while sitting in the hot summer sun with a spectacular view the Columbia River.

Pedaling back wasn’t any issue as the hot sun drained us and I was anxious to get back to the cabin and open the refrigerator to see what it had to offer. I am sure there was a cold beer with my name on it.

Fort Stevens was by far my favorite Oregon State Park and I have camped at most of them.  I enjoyed the luxuries of my own private bathroom, kitchen, TV and plug ins for Fondue.

Prost.

Troopers & Bee Stings (I Love Camping)

I love camping.

Back in “those days” when the girls were little, I considered camping to be an solitary adventure in that you don’t share the experience with hundreds of strangers each in their squared off area of a couple hundred feet. No, I didn’t want to pay for camping, either. 

I would pack my car, and take my daughters up to the mountains, drive down some snowmobile trail until we’d find a lake or pond to call our own for a few nights. We’d pitch the tent and spend most of the day playing in the murky waters of some random lake. And cooking over an open campfire is the only way we ate. My daughters became the Queens of starting fires and did a fine job first thing in the morning. Even at a tender age they knew Mom had to have her coffee. Nothing tastes as good as percolated camping coffee.

Two incidents lead to camping with the masses.

Camp food is the best

One year, we were camping at our newest favorite lake named Island.  We were prepared to be there for five days what felt like an extended vacation. As usual we floated in the lake most of the day. Descending out of the large pond of murky water (calling it a lake seems awful kind) bees swarmed us. Not just the usual annoying amount of bees, but horror movie amounts. We had to leave. The girls and I were packing the car in lighting fast speeds and as I bend down (in my swim suit) a bee got me on the butt. I screamed and hollered like a crazy woman and directed the girls to pull the stringer out. They would not have any part of touching Mom’s butt much less pull the stringer out. I would like to report that was the worst part of leaving the camp site but it wasn’t. Have you’ve ever driven a hundred miles with a bee stung butt?? Let me tell you, it hurts like crazy and sitting on it only aggregates the pain.

The second incident, the following camping experience we went back to Island Lake. Someone had already claimed our spot. Not to worry, we found another small lake (large pond) and pitched our tent. The girls, as usual were out in the water, floating while I sat in my beach chair, book in hand feet in the water when a State Trooper came by. He asked if the girls had life vests on. Why no. He asked if I was camping with someone else. Why no. He asked if I was camping alone with two girls. Why yes. He asked if I had a weapon or any way to defend myself. Why no. He offered to “check up on me.” That pretty much did it in for me. If a State Trooper seemed concerned I was camping maybe he knew something I didn’t and we promptly took down the tent and left. We didn’t’ even spend one night.

Front Porch of the cabin

Now I am a huge, gigantic fan of Oregon State Parks and I no longer tent camp. I used to love camping in Yurts. Super cool and no pitching tents required. The yurts have a futon, table with chairs, bed to sleep on and a heater. Best of all, electric. Such a novel idea for camping. Electricity. Think of the possibilities. Radio, TV’s, electric skillets.

And then I discovered deluxe cabins. The cabins are equipped with a bathroom, a mini-kitchen, bedroom and luxuries such as a TV, microwave and a propane grill. 

Camping will never be the same.

Since we have discovered the cabins, I haven’t had the pleasure of being checked upon by a State Trooper, no bee stings in the butt, no driving down snowmobile trails looking for a place to pitch a tent.

And fondue. Camping with electricity means making fondue for lunch. My new favorite camping food.

Fondue & Camping. Life is good!

Prost.