Drizzle City: Hippies and Hoes

Sorry for the terrbily delayed blog from my adventures with Todd. Last week was designated to clean-up and recovery. I'll have pictures posted shortly. Enjoy. . .i know we did.

Disclaimer:
The contents below are part of a multipart series of events that took place during Thanksgiving week 2008. Please be sure to read from the bottom up, otherwise you will read the story in reverse. The events are told as i remember them. Names, ages, and locations have not been altered to protect the innocent. . .or guilty.

The Eve and Day 1.

My week long vacation started with a bang. . .literally. On my ride home Friday afternoon i managed to bang my head, shoulder, hip, knee and ankle in an impromptu flailing to the city street. Fortunately, my IPod broke my fall. . .oh wait. . .it just broke. In the spirit of the recent Hallmark holiday, i'm thankful i had my helmet on to protect all that brainy goodness i keep between the ol' ears. The rest of Friday was pretty uneventful, happy hour with friends, a trip to NoPo to pick up some snowboard gear and another trip to the airport to pick up the big bro'. After some beverages and grub it was time for a late night round of Frisbee golf through Laurelhurst park. Our legs and minds were getting tired and needed some rest for the next days’ adventures so the back nine consisted of a more urban setting, aka, the road leading back home and with parked cars for hazards.

The real adventure started the next morning. Todd and i got up early and started charging. We stopped off at Noah's for some bagels and java. We hit the road and the plan was to drive. . .south. After a stop at the Deschutes Brewery in Bend, Oregon we continued on what was to this point, our uneventful trip. We were making some good progress and the Yota didn't show any signs of slowing down. In fact, the truck (certainly not the driver) was so anxious to get to Mammoth that we ended up flying up on a well marked California Highway Patrol Suburban. The officer kindly moved to the side of the road to let us by and then filed in behind us. Within just a few hundred feet his lights started this pretty twirling and flashing. Busted! The officer was pretty cool and with a few bats of my lovely, luscious lashes (thanks Maybeline) he let us off with a warning. The Yota got a stern talking to (oh wait. . .that was me who got the lecture) and we were back down the road, making full use of cruise control this time.

Lunch Spot.

Mt Jefferson on the way to Bend.

A shot from the road.

Setting up for the next two photos.

Roadside sunset.

. . .and again.

Everyone was in need of a break from the road so we settled into the fine city of Reno, NV, the biggest little city in the world (quite the claim). Reno is pretty much known for one thing, or as far as i know it's only known for one thing, gambling. I rested the truck on the top floor of a parking garage, we knocked back a few Oregon brews (Deschutes JubleAle) and headed town to strike it rich. After a quick pass through Circus Circus, which had a kids arcade/play area upstairs and ear shattering, bell ringing slots below, we moved on to the next locale, Cal Neva. According to the flashing billboard outside, it was the "Best Bet in Reno" and they even went as far as to claim "Guaranteed to Win!" How can you go wrong with that? Well. . .let me tell you how. Todd headed straight for the $5 BlackJack table and i headed to the "Snack Bar" for a delicious Casino Dog. I scarfed down the dog as quickly as the morbidly obese people sitting next to me destroyed my appetite. It was off the BlackJack tables for me. Thankfully there was an open seat next to Todd at the table. I pulled up the stool and prepared to give away my $100. The rules in Reno, or at least at Cal Neva, were quite kooky. It seemed that every time i tried to do something, make a bet, ask for a card, hold, double down, drink, look at the person next to me, pick my nose, shuffle my feet, or blink i got corrected about how whatever it was i was doing was not kosher. I gradually caught on to the rules but the lack of my BlackJack prowess was apparent enough that the dealer would make ugly faces (uglier than she already was, mean I know) at my decisions. I would then change my decision and then. . .give her my money, $5 at a time. I started to hit a hot streak just as Todd's luck went cold, actually, it was pretty cold all night. I hit a few black jacks and got my $100 back and then some. In the end i gambled away all my winnings but left with the same $100 i walked in with. Todd wasn't so lucky. He lost the deed to the house and nearly offered up his unborn child but didn't have any paperwork to prove her natal existence (really. . .he lost $100).

The sign says it all.

What are pictures of Reno without a shot of a guy in a wheelchair in front of "The Nugget."

Believe it or not. . .we passed up this swank place to sleep in the truck.

Reno wore thin quickly and we decided to keep driving southward to Lake Tahoe. We walked back to the parking garage and discovered that all the stairwells were locked and the elevator was on the other side of the garage. So. . .we threw down some urban crag work and monkied our way up a trellis to the 2nd floor. The drive to Tahoe was only another hour or so. We drove down to the lake and perused the driveways of some fancy lake homes for a spot to park the chateau. We found a pretty nice cedar shingled pad with no lights, no cars and best of all. . .no "No Trespassing" sign. It was a peaceful but chilly night in the back of the truck.