I can not say that today was exactly one of my favorite days on this trip. I set out from Bend, feeling slightly fuzzy-headed (hmm...how could that be?), around 11:00AM en route to Riggins, Idaho...a trip of 350 miles or so.
Not far out of Bend, I was back in the "high desert" again...and...if I asked for flat terrain, I certainly got it. The first three and a half hours or so, the terrain was as flat as possible. Normally, I'd make good time on that kind of road, but it started raining around 1:00PM and never stopped. What I expected to be a four hour or so drive took over eight hours. It's a pretty boring drive, but my satellite radio is coming in perfect...so I listen to a couple of football games...then end of OSU/Troy, the whole Notre Dame/MSU game (disappointing), and the first quarter of LSU/Auburn.
The people that collect the data for my Garmin GPS program have apparently never been in Riggins...I can't pull up an address for anything (fuel, lodging, dining, etc.) and the Garmin won't accept any of the Riggins addresses that I try to input. So...I'm pretty much flying blind over the last 100 miles or so. Those last 100 miles take me through more mountains...low ones, but lots of curves, hairpin turns, etc. that slow me down.
It's starting to get dark, but the Garmin is telling me that I'm close...unfortunately, the Garmin is wrong...when I get to where I expect Riggins to be, I'm still over 50 miles away. So...I decide to stay in the town of McCall, a small skiing community at the base of Mt. Brundage.
The local AmericInn looks nice, so I pull in there to book a room. And that's where the weird stuff starts...the clerk looks at my credit card and says, "Welcome back, Mr. Thee". I tell her that this is my first time in Idaho, so I could not have stayed there before. She rechecks her computer and tells me that another "William Thee" was a guest there just a few months ago.
Wow...another William Thee...I know that there is at least one other William Thee in the world...he's a labor lawyer in San Diego (no relation). So...maybe he was the guest...unless...there's a third William Thee...wouldn't THAT be something.
I'm hungry...all I've had to eat today was a half a bag of jalapeno chips and a candy bar. The desk clerk recommends the local steakhouse, The Mill, which I passed about a mile and a half up the road. So, I drive over there and, almost immediately, things are not going well. It's crowded (in retrospect, I wonder why), you can't eat at the bar, there's an hour wait for a table, and there's a guy playing a loud (very loud) piano. I do, however, have an option...I can go out of the restaurant and go in a separate entrance to the "Sports Bar" which serves the same menu as the restaurant. So, I opt for the Sports Bar. They don't have a guy on the piano, but they're playing "Top 40's" music at full volume...I can hardly hear myself think in there. I sit down at the bar and order their best white wine...Kendall-Jackson...a wine that they'd serve at McDonalds if McDonalds served wine...OK, I admit it, I'm spoiled and feeling a little wine "snobby" after all that great wine in Oregon. I order The Mill's "famous" Prime Rib...it's pretty disappointing...dry and overcooked...still, I'm hungry. With the beef, I have one glass of Cabernet (Kendall Jackson!).
Now I'm heading back to the AmericInn...I can see it right on the other side of the traffic light. I go through the light and, suddenly, there's an EMS vehicle or ambulance barreling up the road behind me. So...I pull over to let him pass. He pulls over behind me...ah...it's not an EMS vehicle, it's a local policeman.
OK, I have to tell you that, at this point, I'm a bit startled, but I'm not nervous at all. That's because I've only had two glasses of wine, so I KNOW that I'm well under the .08 limit...maybe I'm at around .02 or .03. As you can tell from my blog entries, I enjoy my wine (a lot), my beer, and the occasional Martini...BUT, I am scrupulously careful about alcohol if I'm driving.
The policeman comes up to my window and shines his flashlight at me. He tells me that he noticed that my vehicle was "riding pretty low" (no joke...I've got most of Oregon's 2006 wine production in there) and that my taillights are partially obscured by all of the stuff that I've got "bungeed down" on the cargo carrier.
He asks me where I'm from...where I've been, and I start telling him about my trip...I notice that his face softens a bit at this.
He asks for my license which I produce easily. Then he asks for my registration and insurance...the ones in the glove box between me and which sit several cases of wine.
He sees the same thing , and he tells me not to worry about it. He asks me where I've just been...The Mill...and he asks if I've had anything to drink...two glasses of wine with dinner, that's it. Still, he tells me that he needs to do a few "tests"...so now I'm following his finger with my eyes while he looks at them with his flashlight...I "pass". Then I have to count backward from the number 88...piece of cake...I've never been great at math, but this I can handle. My only worry is that he'll ask me some trick question like they used to do in those old WWII movies..."OK buddy, who plays third base for the Brooklyn Dodgers?" But I'm lucky...no trick question...and, just like that, I'm free to go...with the strong "suggestion" that I rearrange things on the cargo carrier before I take off tomorrow morning.
Nothing like a little "excitement" before bed.
P.S. I see that I'm not the only person with a "bridge phobia"...
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080921/ap_on_re_us/bridge_panic_1
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