Vacation, Day 2, 10/22/2009, Part 3

We made it to Mississippi! Hooray! To tell you the truth, neither one of us ever expected to get back home again, so this is just so special, so sweet. We knew we were in for some fun, for days and days and days! It all started with Kay and Milton, out in the country at their house. They had plans for us, let me tell you.

First thing after we got the suitcases inside the house, Milton got the keys to Kay's 1980 Corvette and said, "Come on, Lynette. I'm taking you for a ride."

Here's the Corvette in the carport, speed sitting still.

When Milton started it up, the rest of us, including their grandson Ian and their rescued, cutie-pie, little dog Tinkerbell, were on the carport, sitting there visiting. Did Mama ever squeal and jump in her seat! I stood there in awe, reveling in the power, the deep rumble, the potential.

Milton goosed it a time or two before pulling out onto the driveway. Mama jumped again, giggling. I grinned.


Milton got out, took both T-tops (or whatever you call them) out of roof of the car, helped me get way down into the seat, made sure I was belted in. Milton got in, started the engine. Whoa! What a sound! I'm thinking, "Anticipation!" He hooked up an iPod to the dash and the car's sound system. Holding the iPod in his left hand, steering with his right, Milton said, "Now, I don't know for sure what's on here, Lynette. My grandson and my son-in-law loaded it, so it's all kinds of stuff." He drove us down their driveway and turned left, out onto the country road, where he stepped on the gas, and I felt myself pushed back into the seat--whoopee! I wondered at how NASCAR drivers must feel so much more force when going nearly 200 mph. For an inkling, I realized how addictive speed can be.

I took this photo of Tinkerbell before I got into the Corvette. She's wishing she could go along for the ride, but settled for telling us good-bye at the edge of the carport.


To tell you the truth, I don't remember what we listened to on that fine sound system, but I do know that we could hear every bit of it even with the air rushing by--Milton just pumped up the volume! We could've been the music source for one fine lawn party, if Milton had decided to stop somewhere.

The Corvette responded quickly to Milton's foot on the gas pedal, barreling down this road and that road. I don't know for sure where we went because I didn't know for sure where we were in the first place. I mean, in general I knew we were west of I-55 near McComb. I do know that I had an ever-lovin' blast! At one point I asked him, "How fast are we going?" He replied, "Only 65." "We sure did get there fast," I said. Milton laughed and laughed while I grinned at him. (Later on we sped up to 85, Milton told me after we were back home.) We zoomed past fenced fields, houses with porches, a country store and gas station, at least one church, a post office, groves of pines and leafless hardwoods beneath a battleship gray sky.

I took this photo looking straight up out of the swiftly moving Corvette. I wondered at their speed and skill, how it matched with the car's and Milton's.


After a few more miles flew by, I asked over the roar of the wind and the radio, "Is this a muscle car, Milton?" He said no and went on to explain the difference which I can't quite remember except that I think he mentioned 442's and GTO's and MOPAR. Little did I know that I'd hatched an idea in his head with that short little question.

Pretty soon Milton slowed down, made a sharp right turn and headed up a slight incline, then turned left into a curving lane lined with mostly tall pines, some young hardwoods, with two dirt tracks separated by a grassy strip, pine needles strewn here and there. "I'm taking you somewhere where you can take all the pictures you want to take, Lynette," he explained.

Soon the track turned to all grass that ended at an obviously new garage-sized out-building, situated beside a smaller, older one. Milton blew and blew the horn as we both looked toward the open, regular-sized door on the left front of the building. A man walked out and good ol'boy hellos ensued. We were at Milton's train engineer's home. "I brought her out here," Milton explained, "after she asked me if the Corvette was a muscle car." Turns out he's a muscle car man! Come back tomorrow to see what I mean--you won't be disappointed.

Milton parked the Corvette, and naturally I couldn't resist one more photo of the first Corvette I've had the pleasure of sitting in, much less speeding around the countryside.

Friday Night Moving Van Mania, or an episode of our lives in the middle of a Richard Scarry* book.

Living in Portland is a treat for us, day in and day out. There's always something going on outside the window, whether that's the vehicle, office or apartment window--the sights and sounds of the city. I love it! Even those two moving vans at midnight last night. And the serendipitious appearance of the auto commercial with the DUH in lights. Perfect situational statement.

Here's what happened. Just about 11:40 p.m., I heard air brakes right outside the living room windows. This was before I had put in my earplugs--which I often do on weekend nights or sporting-event-at-PGE-park nights--and crawled into bed. Curious, I looked out. Imagine my surprise when I saw a full-sized moving van parking in front of the building across the street! I went into Mama's room to look out her windows and got an even bigger shock when another moving van made its way east in front of us, pulling to a stop, blocking the entire intersection as it went back and forth, back and forth, under the not-so-helpful direction of two men, one the driver of the other truck, on a passenger in one not yet parked. Finally, finally, it hissed to a stop beside our sidewalk at 11:50 p.m. By now, we've got the screen out of one bedroom window, our-curious-selves watching in disbelief as one man opens a door on the street side of the moving van across the street. Keep in mind that moving is an unbelievably frequent activity around here, with apartment buildings on all four corners of our intersection as well as up and down each and every street in the neighborhood, but this is our first midnight moving experience. Our last? Who knows.

A slender, mature-looking woman, dressed in a matching casual outfit, joined the men at the back of the truck across the street for a few minutes, then disappeared into the building. Our street has two parking lanes and two traffic lanes or these guys would've been chopped liver as they pulled moving pads out, tossing them in the street. Traffic continued, passing closely as the three men toted boxes into the building, loaded two two-wheelers with heavier, bulkier boxes and wheeled them into the building, carried rugs taped into cylinders and boxes that must have held framed artwork. When this particular man happened to look up at us, Mama asked him how long they'd be. He said, "Ten minutes, not more than that, 10 minutes," saw my camera and asked me to take his picture. Not enough flash for a good photo--we live on the 4th and top floor of our building--but you can see wrapped in plastic and cardboard the biggest thing they carried in on a two-wheeler. Could that be a curio cabinet or a grandfather clock? I wanted to try some photos without the flash, so I did, until no one was beside the truck and I got second picture below with the flash.


Mama and I made our way into the living room; she said she was hungry and headed for a carton of yogurt. I checked the Comcast guide again when Jay Leno introduced the music act, names I didn't recognize instead of Brad Paisley who was listed on the Guide, doggone it. Mama went to bed, earplugs installed. I watched a rerun of Nextel Cup practice at Bristol on Speed because I didn't think I could fall asleep yet. At one point I looked out and saw our intersection just like I wanted it to be, empty and quiet in the middle of the night. Every once in a while, one of the men would bring out an empty box or two and throw them into the van. Things appeared to be winding down. When two of them separately stepped between the truck and trailer of the nearest moving van, to relieve themselves I think is the mannerly way to state it, I knew it wouldn't be long before they started the motors and left.

Finally, at 1:10 a.m., the moving vans pulled away. I slept fine after that, no earplugs installed, with the sound of my fan serving as white noise.

I must report, though, that I dreamed that the three men looked up at us and asked if they could come upstairs and use the bathroom, and we unhesitantly replied yes! Once they'd used the facilities, they sat down to tell us moving tales and fell asleep all over the couch and chair! Mama calmly went back to bed in her room, the door shut. I myself couldn't fall asleep, fearing that the men were playing possum and would leave our apartment stealthily, loaded with more than they had in their possession when we had opened the door for them.

Can you say, "There's such a thing as carrying creativity too far"? I'm close, ain't I?

*Some of my all-time favorite children's books to read to Lamont and Leland were Richard Scarry books. Here's the Wikipedia link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Scarry.

Boris Said to drive the No. 21 Little Debbie car Sunday!

I'm watching NASCAR Live! on Speed, dozing because I woke up at ever-lovin' 5 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep! I just saw Bob Dilner interviewing Bill Elliott, resplendent in his Georgia twang, and heard him say that Boris was going to drive the car tomorrow in the NASCAR Nextel race at Watkins Glen.

Elliott said something like, "I'm not in the points. The car's in the points." Then he said that's why Boris is going in the Wood Brothers' car, because Boris' road-racing skills are based in road racing. Then he said, "I like Boris." My word. Bill Elliott--a class act from way back. And evidently the two guys are similar sized, so not too much will have to done to the car/seat, according to the Little Debbie crew chief Fatback McSwain.

Excited, wanting to read any reports already online, I Googled "Boris Said" and found a 35-minute old report from Scene Daily dot com. Here's the link in case you want to read it: http://www.scenedaily.com/stories/2007/08/06/scene_daily271.html.

In a little while, Said will qualify for today's NASCAR Busch race, but he did get in some practice in the No. 21.

I guess I'm turning into a bit of a Said Head. For those of you who can't fathom that last comment, that great head of curly hair has prompted his fans to show up at races wearing curly wigs and to be known as Said Heads.


Boris Said, photo from The Garage Blog dot com

Here's a link to cartoon that puts it all in perspective--http://www.borissaid.net/06%20cartoon.jpg.

Time has passed and Busch qualifying is now running on ESPN2. Bye for now.

UPDATE No. 1 Boris qualified 9th for the Busch race. In front of him are several full-time NASCAR Nextel drivers, which is another bone I'd like to pick with NASCAR, letting the big dogs run in races that I feel ought to be for the up-and-coming drivers.

UPDATE No. 2 Boris finished 9th overall, gaining 11 spots in the Busch standings.