The lowdown, the rundown, the shakedown, the letdown

Okay, lads, here's the plan:

This afternoon I'm off to Seattle to hang with DiDi, Lauren and Kristi. New houses to explore, new guest beds to sleep in, new gossip to be traded. Nice.

Bright and early Sunday I'm taking the train(!) back to Portland. I have all these romantic notions in my head of how that could be, but it's unlikely any of them will pan out. For one, I don't have a floppy hat. And two, I don't think the steam really billows about like that. You better believe I'll be squeezing my eyes shut and pretending it does, though. Chug chug puff puff.

Grandma Lois and Grandpa Bob are coming up on Sunday for Mom's birthday (and for lemon meringue round two, I bet you pesos to pork chops). And to see me, obvs. Originally, this put a bit of a kink in my plans, since they were my excuse to travel the Oregon Coast highway (101) down to California in order to visit them on the way. Now they're bringing the road show to me, I get to make up a bit of time by going on the more direct and more dismal I-5. However! I persevere: after a bit of I-5, I'll cut over to 101 so I get to do the parts I've never done before, down into CA.

I get to visit Berkeley and San Francisco for the first time ever! I can't even believe this. And from there, my plan is to angle SE through the Mojave desert, where I'd like to camp for a night if I don't chicken out. Could you even believe it? Way back when the closest I had ever gotten to a freewheelin' roadtrip was this song (hey, remember that?) and brief snatches of weekend-TV-edited Thelma and Louise percolated through a kid's mind, I always pictured a deserted, desert road to be integral to the whole experience. Sun shimmering slick on the pavement, wind hushing dust against the fenders. Chills just to think!

And from there, Tuzigoot... and glory.