Travels in a Tiny Teardrop Trailer – Day 2 (cont. again)
Dry shoes for Sis, a couple of chocolate bars, working lighters for the stove, and a hot lunch in our stomachs – what could be finer than driving up I-5 as the sky clears and the sun shines on us. Our operating rule is that the driver minds the road while the person riding shotgun manages the heater/AC and the sound track. I’m driving so we are listening to Sis’s playlist of Scottish reels, blue grass, and Nova Scotian folk music. Not my favorite but she put up with my Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, Joan Baez, and other 60’s relics for the previous day. Won’t hurt me to listen to something different.
We sail past Eugene, nod to the State Capitol in Salem, and switch drivers. No sooner do Sis’s hands touch the steering wheel than it starts to rain again. We hit Portland at the height of rush hour in heavy rain, and trudge our way along with what seems like half of Portland’s population across the bridge to Washington. Only a hundred miles to go!
Just like the night before, it is dark and raining hard when we pull up in front of Bro’s house. But this time, Bro comes out and takes over, parking our little teardrop with relative ease in his driveway next to his own trailer. (Sis and I had a hazy memory of Bro talking about how his new house had ample room for trailer parking in the yard next to the workshop, but we dismiss this for now) . And inside the house is a warm kitchen, with a pot roast bubbling in the crock pot, a bottle of wine to be opened, and Bro’s wife C showing us to our room, with a big bed and hand-quilted comforter to look forward to. Is this heaven, or what!
[Sorry, no pix – we didn’t stop for much between lunch and Bro’s place. But tune in next time to find out about that trailer that is parked in the driveway – more than meets the eye!]