Final Day

Friedman Acceptability Measure: 5

Rudely awakened at 6:30, I was again able to pass out in the passenger seat as we flew towards beautiful Crater Lake National Park. At almost 2,000 feet deep, Crater Lake is the deepest lake in these United States. All pictures are safely on Friedman's camera, so you will have to wait for those. We had a delicious breakfast at the Crater Lake Inn, a surprisingly snooty place in which the lowest servants are African American, the mid-level people are foreign, and those in charge are white. I had two scrambled eggs, ham, potatoes, and a biscuit, along with 3 cups of weak but delicious coffee and a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Knowing that California's gas taxes are the highest this side of France, we wanted to gassify in Oregon. But, like New Jersey, Oregon seems to have a law requiring that all gas stations are full service, and, also like New Jersey, for reasons I do not fully understand, this makes all gas stations in Oregon sketchy and crowded. Pay at the pump does not seem to have penetrated this final frontier. Perhaps our Oregonian friend, Mr. Nosko, can fill us in on this. Just over the border into CA, we found an un-manned pay-at-the-pump station, where we poured gallon upon gallon of plus-grade fuel into the unusually thirsty B M Trouble-U. We managed to drive 500 miles in the state of Oregon without a single refueling.

We drove past the Mount Shasta Trinity, easily the equal of Mount Rainier in drama and almost the equal in height, over two bridges that span man-made Lake Shasta (home of summer house boating trips), and we even managed to find the famous "Auto Mall Parkway" shortcut. Last time I took this route I made the mistake of following signs to the Dumbarton Bridge (the very bridge we wanted to take), which take you on a road neither fast nor scenic that winds forever through the hills.

We got to Palo Alto in time to make the 8pm showing of LIVE FREE, OR DIE HARD. See the movie. Unless you're Rick Townsend, you'll find it enjoyable.

And with that, like all things good and bad, the trip had to come to an end. Friedman was off to Berkeley, and I was off to a good night's sleep. I'm showered and shaved, the clothes are in the washing machine, the poodles are sated with milkbones, and I am ready to move on to whatever next adventure the Good Lord has in store for me. Thank y'all for reading. I'm not sayin' goodnight...just sayin'.