4/8/2013. - Day 13 - Additional confirming details. Eugene (Still Oregon, still raining)

4/8/2013. - Day 13 -

Additional confirming details.

Eugene (Still Oregon, still raining)







Last night, Donna (aunt), Thor (cousin) and I reviewed my route and planned a few scenic stops. I also marked the spots on the map that I really enjoyed driving through or visiting. Thor cleverly suggested that I cross our Oregon all together, or simply black it out. Actually a wise suggestion. I didn't do it [yet] because it will ruin the order and color scheme of my atlas, but it is blacked out and dead to me in real life. I'm sorry Oregon, if your rain didn't ruin your chances of ever seeing me again, the slugs, mold, the damp cold, and the hippies, oh the hippies, will deter me for many moons. There will be no second date. I said Good Day!

Today, Thor and I have begun tackling the "list" Donna left us. She has flown to Texas, where they are relocating to in just a few weeks. Thor and I have a list of tasks and chores to complete.  I hope to report a completely checked off list upon our rendezvous in Dallas in a couple weeks.

Thor and I set off in the Volvo to tackle some of the errands. Interestingly enough, en route to complete our list items, we encounter what appears to be a hybrid green species--hippie cyclists. Defined, it's pretty much an unwashed person on a bicycle that yields to nothing except signs directing them to organic kelp and goji berries. I've been more frustrated other times in my life but I can't remember them at this moment due to the annoying hipster cyclist driving down the middle of the freeway. At this point, I'm really breeding my own brew of extreme cyclist dislike that has been lurking in the depths of my heart for some time but only shows itself in cities that are highly populated with these specimens. It's not really that extreme I guess, just more of general annoyance.  But honestly, I don't understand the cyclist situation.  You are not a car. Get off the road. There is a perfectly good route beside the speeding cars about to run you over--called the shoulder.  By all means, ride your bike--just not in front of my car, on the road, sporting your spandex, while ignoring all forms of caution, road signage, and lane placement as you pretend to mimic a motor vehicle. How is this not clear?

I'm so glad I got that off my chest. All my cyclist friends just deleted me from their cyberspace accounts and blacked me out like Oregon on my map.



Thor and I returned home with the majority of the list checked off. I ventured out to work on the landscaping task, only to be maimed by the wheel barrow and spend the evening picking splinters out of my hand. I'll probably just stick to my day job--which for the moment is driving around like a gypsy.