Two Down, One to Go

        

         We had been told by our friend (the one who lives in McMinnville) that we would have two months to reside before changing over to Oregon plates and driving.  We’ve been here for almost two months now.

         We somehow believed that we would have to take the tests in the big city of Roseburg, but someone had suggested that we go to Canyonville.  I hadn’t thought of a DMV even existing in Canyonville.  What an awesome thought.

         Roland happened to be off work for pioneer day as he is still on Utah clock.  The South Umpqua ward tries to do something for the days of ’47 to honor the pioneers who traveled across the plains.  I’m told that the pioneer celebration always takes place a week earlier than it does in Utah as Myrtle Creek has its own celebration around the same time as Utah has theirs. 

         So on July 24^th, we went to Canyonville so that Richard could take his test first, and I went across the street with Jenna to take pictures of her playing in the park.  We weren’t there for very long.

Yesterday Roland received his Oregon driver’s license in the mail.  He now has two valid driver’s licenses – one from Oregon and one from Utah.  His Utah was never punched.

         He had seemed nervous about the test for some reason.  I do not know why.  Roland is a great driver.  If he thought he would not be able to pass, what chances would I have at passing?

         The questions had mostly common sense answers.  There really wasn’t anything to be nervous about.  I actually did better at the test than he did.  My Utah driver’s license was punched and I was given a temporary piece of paper.

         Now we just need to change our car plates from Utah to Oregon.  NOT an easy task. ALWAYS red tape in Utah.  It hasn’t ended for us.  I wonder if it ever will.

         For some reason we arrived in Oregon without the title to the car we are currently driving.  We sent an application to Utah to get a replacement title.  Paperwork sent back with the reason that we still owed our credit union for the car.  We DON’T owe our credit union.  The car had been paid off over a year before we moved to Oregon.

         So we get the credit union to send a letter that says we have indeed paid for the car and we return the paperwork to the state of Utah.  It is returned to us again because the letter clears us of a car – it doesn’t give the make or model number. So we call the bank again. 

      They said they would send a certificate for the lean.  They also sent an email so that we could print it up and resend off again.  But the printed copy seems distorted, as we appeared to be out of blue ink.  So I expect that Utah will send it back to us. 

       Meanwhile we have the hard copy – which does appear to be a lot more acceptable than what we printed out.  Meanwhile our two months are running out.  Fortunately I don’t think it will be a major concern right now in Myrtle Creek.  There are certainly more pressing issues going on in our surroundings at this time. 

       There have been so many ideas come to mind about what I’d like to post, but I find that if I don’t write it down the second that I think about it, it often doesn’t get written at all. 

         This morning I take Jenna to school for registration.  She is not excited.

Reminiscing a Very Past Memory (maybe three)

          I don’t know how old my grandma was when she decided to get her driver’s license.  She had been born and raised in Utah, but was then living in San Francisco.  I don’t know if she had ever driven at the time she had resided in Utah and maybe didn’t feel the need in San Francisco as she could rely on public transportation.

          Grandpa Ralph was a retired bus driver and did know his way around. I am pretty sure that he had a car, and after he passed way, perhaps Grandma Mary had been missing that luxury of just driving somewhere and not having to wait for the bus or the streetcar or the BART or whatever. 

          I was too young to actually get all the logistics involved.  I just remember my own mom having mentioned it. I know that Grandma had purchased her own car but doubt that she had it for more than two years.  San Francisco has a lot of hills and narrow spaces. Why anybody would ever want to drive (or learn to drive) in San Francisco is beyond me.

          I vaguely remember teeny space off to the side that led the way to underground parking.  I probably would have missed it altogether except for I remember daddy driving through whenever we would visit – which wasn’t often, really.  My grandma seemed okay with the driving part, but was more than reluctant to try to park it.  I remember her telling my mom that she would stop it in the street and wave someone down and offer to pay the individual five dollars to park the car for her.  That always fascinated me as she lived in a very high crime neighborhood.  Yet every person that got behind the wheel would actually park it for her and no one just took it from her.

          My Uncle John had worked for the police force and lived in Martinez.  I remember taking the BART from the mission district to a location that was near to where he could pick me up and drive back to Martinez.  It was interesting to me that grandma had taken me to a BART location in San Francisco where the transportation was located underground which reminded me of a subway system.  And yet when I got to Lafayette (I think that was the name of the station where I got off for Uncle John) it was above ground like a monorail.

          I had gone to Martinez to go to church with John and his family and when he returned me to the station, his police radar had kicked in and as he told me where to get off, he warned me to stay underground.  The mission district was full of crime and he said under no circumstance was I to walk up to the street but that I had to wait for grandma to come and get me.

          I remember telling mom and she kind of made a face and laughed and said, “I’m sure he’s asking you to wait for this little old lady to come and protect you.”

          Grandma was a very friendly and optimistic person.  She didn’t seem to be bothered by much.  I remember my mom telling me that grandma’s residence had been broken into a least a couple of times – but it was while she was out.  I don’t know that she was ever physically attacked.  On the other hand, mom did have a good friend who had been attacked at Golden Gate Park.  I cannot find the original source, but there is mention of it here.

            I don't know what it is that triggered my memory of my grandma.  It still fascinates me when I think about it.

Highway 140 has lots of names

     Denise and I have taken pictures and some could very well go with my road trip posts, but I have to wait until I return home in order to retrieve them from the camera.

     Denise likes to sleep in and stay until checkout.  Never in my life have I stayed at a hotel/motel/inn that long.  Get me back on the road as soon as there is enough light.

Denise thought she woke me up when I was certain it was the other way around.  Roland called before she was dressed and she asked if he was asking us to get back on the road.  Well, yes.  And fortunately we did.

We had breakfast in Winnamucca – which was very fortunate, as we did not hit the next town until four hours later.  The diner was crowded and it was a while before somebody had even taken our order.  I noticed the group (in the booth next to ours) left before their order even made it to the kitchen.  We probably weren’t even there for an hour though it felt like we had.  I think it was the earliest Denise had ever left her apartment (or in this case motel room)

It was just shortly before or after ten when we left Winnamucca.  Our main road companion was Highway 140 – which was pretty – even with the scary curves at one point.  The Highway changed names (and it felt like direction) several times as Siri would lead us to this road or that. 

For the first four hours, though the name changed, it felt like an endless drive.  There was nothing to stop for.  I think only two rest stops between Winnemucca and Lakeview.  Lakeview actually offered two motels – I can’t imagine that there is enough money there to create a livelihood for ones self.  Population of less than 3,000.

At that point we didn’t even know if Lakeview was in Nevada or Oregon. Denise was quite frustrated with the lack of signs welcoming us into each state or even letting us know where we were.  The Garmin would just give directions and map out streets (well, when there were streets) that we would pass or come to.  Garmin never let me know what city we were in, but changed the name of Highway 104 to Denio and Freemont.

It was in Freemont that we stopped to take pictures of Lucky Reservoir.  I can’t remember if that came up before or after the dangerous curves (which were actually not so bad for travelers going north, but it certainly gave me good reason not to be driving that thing by myself while traveling south)

After we passed the town of Lakeview, Highway 140 became Klamath Falls-Lakeview Highway and then finally to route 62 which is called Crater Lake Highway. 

It appears that the Highway is being straightened out in some areas – but that always accounts for construction.  We got held up a few times.  White City looked like a booming town when we finally arrived – as there had been little signs of life during our entire journey.  What we had both anticipated might take six hours ended up taking us almost eight.  Denise’s back hurt from driving all that way and we were both exhausted.  Still exhausted.

I actually got up because the alarm clock had started going off.  I finally unplugged the dang thing as I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off.  And Denise still continues to sleep.  That actually fascinates me because I am such a light sleeper.  Evidently she is not.

She says she has always wanted to go to the Medford Temple (well, since she converted to Mormonism 18 months ago) and finally has the opportunity to do so as we are ten minutes away.   So our plans now are to get up early (though I think my definition of early and her definition or early are two different times) and come back to the room and pack and then she will take me to Roseburg where I need to meet the individual who has the key to the property where Roland and I would like to live – even if only temporary.

Denise has planned everything.  She likes to know exactly where she’s going, and have a specified destination.  She’ll call ahead to book a room.  Today she and I will part ways.  She will continue on to Newport to visit her grandkids, and I will hopefully get to see a house that hopefully we’ll be moving to in just a few weeks.

I did have a room booked in Roseburg – for last night.  I also had a car.  Right now I don’t have either.  Nor do I have a way of getting home.  I’m hoping to take the bus from Roseburg to Salt Lake.  I am hoping to leave this weekend. 

I’m going to dress and get something to eat before Denise gets up and we head for the temple.

Touring the Coast on Easter Sunday

             On Sunday we met Beth and Graham for a light breakfast.  Plans were to drive the coast.  Beth took us on the scenic tour – which really was pretty.  Unfortunately my stomach was not impressed, and we had to stop the car and rotate seats before we got to Tillamook.

            Once we arrived at the Tillamook Cheese plant, we were able to take a self-guided tour and sample the cheese before purchasing ice cream.  The Cheese company had offered an Easter Egg hunt on Saturday.  That could be one of the reasons that Sunday was so slow.  It was great for us as we didn't have to wait in lines.

Move Out of the Way!

I have heard that Utah has the widest streets in the nation.  Neighborhood streets are only two lanes – generally.  Still most seem big enough for cars to get by other cars that may be parked on the side of the road. 

Our main streets consist of 6 – 8 lanes – perhaps not for the entire road, but at some points.  I’ve gotten used to really wide roads.  As a pedestrian, I find I have only a few seconds to cross before the light changes.  It’s not like that all over the city – but enough to me that it feels that way.

Roland and I noticed the streets in Oregon were quite narrow in comparison.  We had a strange encounter at Fort Grove because of it.

Fort Grove is very pretty, almost story book looking, very secluded though.  Not a lot of shopping convenience.  I don’t know how far the firehouse is, but apparently they have access to one.

As we were driving around and looking at houses, Roland saw the fire truck behind us.  When we see that in Utah, our reaction is to pull over and let anything with a siren pass us.  Even with neighborhood streets, or the not-as-wide streets downtown.  There’s still enough room to pull over and pass.

Aside from Portland, I didn’t see much in the way of being able to pull over in order for any emergency vehicle to pass.  Certainly not in Forest Grove.  If we had pulled over, the fire truck would not have been able to pass.  The streets were too narrow.  I felt in the way as we continued to move and try to get out of its path.  It didn’t matter if we turned or went straight, it seemed to follow us – and there was nothing we could do but continue moving in a neighborhood that we weren’t even familiar with.

The two pictures don't  show the true narrowness of what was felt

 

Slow Down, People – seriously – SLOW DOWN!!!

The weather the past few days have made for awesome biking weather, driving weather, walking weather . . . except for one thing.  There are some drivers who think they own the road and that the rules don’t apply to them.  They can drive as fast as they wish, as reckless as they wish and ain’t nobody in the path that is going to stop them.  Oh, whoops – there was.  Most of this could have been prevented.   

I was at the front of the school yesterday – and have to walk a ways to the bus stop and make at least three transfers.  I make my first transfer at the college.  I decided to take the 41 in whatever direction came first.  The first one to come was going eastbound and then I made my final transfer to the 217 – which is the bus I normally take.  But there was a blockage that prevented both northbound and southbound traffic.  The bus had to turn back and take a long detour around that area.  I was at a loss at what might have taken place.  The blockage was between intersections.  I couldn’t even visualize an accident.

Seven hours later I was on the bus going southbound.  Same detour.  What the heck?  I was reminded of this incident – when Roland and Jenna and I were returning to the house when we lived in Kearns.  

         It was after 8:00 p.m. when we made our turn off 4000 W onto a neighborhood street that would take us home.  We could see the lights up ahead from all the emergency vehicles that were there.  We watched the news and heard this story.  The number of children varied with each report.  Some local authorities said as low as five were hit.  Some said seven.

         I’m certain that it was not the intent of the driver to plow down those students – or was even aware that he was off course or where he was or what was happening.  It was later explained that he was driving with or without medication that caused a reaction. 

         The next morning that part of the street was still closed down – over 15 hours after it happened.  It had remained closed due to investigation on what was considered a crime.

         I actually hadn’t thought too much about it after we had left Kearns.  Not until yesterday when I learned that Redwood was still closed in that same location as it had been that same morning.  I know that being without power is quite painful, but I felt relieved to know it was not as serious as accidents causing injuries or death – or even worse, a crime that had led to murder.

         Roland was to meet me at Jenna’s school as we had an appointment with her teachers.  He wouldn’t have been able to go home his usual way anyway.  I told him about the blockage and he sent me a list of five different accidents taking place all throughout the valley – all at approximately the same time – all causing backed up traffic, detours and delays.

         The day before, police were out patrolling – looking for speeders and evidently meeting their goal.  I saw the same police officer pull over a second car after driving away from having written up someone else.

         There was a police truck behind a civilian car blocking the bus stop at the college.  It doesn’t happen often that a vehicle blocks the pathway of the bus.  But I have seen it three or four times where the bus driver becomes angry and will honk and shake his fist at the driver.  The bus driver was ticked but decided not to provoke the police officer (I guess)

         I suppose accidents at this time of year are common – but in the past it’s been due to ice and snow – not totally to stupidity.  Why drive so recklessly?  Why not enjoy the weather?

         Even some bus drivers have been known to have led feet.  Shame on them for flying from intersection to intersection, zooming past three or four other bus stops along the way – only so they can wait 3-5 minutes so they won’t be “ahead of schedule” – I don’t have the strength to run to the corner and across the street.  I’m an old woman!

         Just slow down.  Don’t go over the speed limit.  Don’t speed up for yellow lights!  Is your being in a hurry really worth the delays you create for others?  Is it worth risking others’ lives? Or even your own?  Leave early if you must.  But don’t speed.  Please slow down.

The week before Christmas

Today I have the car.  Well, for six – eight hours. 

This morning Jenna and I rode in with Roland to his work.  We stayed in the car and listened to Henry Winkler for about 45 minutes.

I should have waited a while longer before pulling out of the lot, but I was afraid of more traffic entering the lot, and wanted to avoid the employee traffic and so went out on the road earlier than I should have.  But we did say a prayer before we left and got Jenna to the school with thirty minutes to spare.

It is Jenna’s last day of school this year.  The classes are doing a program this morning.  I didn’t make it to her program last year because we had the hardest snowfall we had seen for a number of years and so of course the busses were running behind and even though I had left the house earlier than I thought was necessary, I waited for over 20 minutes before I realized that even if the bus did come, there was no way it would get me to my destination and allow my walk hike up to her school in time to see her perform. 

She wants me there for her performance today.  I haven’t been there for all of her performances.  When she was in first grade, Roland and I arrived early enough, but were called away to set up chairs for a funeral. I gave a flash drive to someone recording but never got it back.

Her part does not start until after 10:00.  I have things to do and could not afford to hang around her school all day.  But I didn’t want to be taking the bus all day either.  That is why I am driving.

When the school has a program, the parents have the option of checking their child (or children) out early.  Jenna doesn’t want to be checked out early because she wants to stay for the class party.  So after I pick her up this afternoon, we will pick up some lunch for Roland and I will drive back to his office and he will drive us home – although I really don’t mind taking the bus from his work.  Perhaps I’ll have him drop us off at a TRAX station.

Tonight (thanks to my awesome sister-in-law, Sunny – the glue who holds us together) we will have a family party with two of my sibs and their families.  Corey and Joh cannot make it. 

  but Sunny says everyone in Utah will be there.    I’m excited to see everyone and play games.  I think the hours in today are going to fly right by.  

One of Us Has to Wait in the Snow

What goes around comes around.  I thought about that when Alley’s mom offered not only to drive us to Jenna’s school, but pick her up as well.  When I was driving I had stopped to pick up Jorge and his mom whenever I would see them walking to church.  I was also willing to drive them to other destinations as needed. I’ve given rides to various people for various reasons.  I actually haven’t had a problem with it so I don’t know why I’m having such an issue at the receiving end. 

Alley’s mom is a really good driver – unfortunately not all drivers are that careful behind the wheel.  If she were to get in an accident because she was out shuttling Jenna and me around, I would be quite bothered by it.  But I didn’t want to discourage her or take away from her act of kindness.  The last time she picked Jenna up from school, her own children nearly beat her home.

Jenna, who usually considers herself late for school if she hasn’t crossed the playground at least 30 minutes before school starts, would rather take the bus than be to school fifteen minutes before we would normally board the bus.  But I’m not always thrilled with the idea of having to return to the bus stop to wait in the freezing cold either.  And so we made a compromise.

Alley’s brother normally takes the bus to the junior high but during the cold months and elements, their mom has been dropping him off and has offered to take Jenna the rest of the way to her school as Vantanna really isn’t that far from Dwight Jr. High.

But as I mentioned in this post Alley’s school let’s out only five or ten minutes after Jenna’s and though they return to the neighborhood by way of school bus, the timing is not always convenient from my point of view.  I think she needs to be home for their return – though I do appreciate her willingness and have accepted her offer – I still am having a hard time with it.

Jenna, who also likes to dawdle (which I have mentioned here and here and probably another number of places) has been good about crossing the field on time.  But I think she is more bothered about crossing the field immediately after school than she is at arriving early.  And so we made a compromise

.

We will ride with Alley’s mom in the morning and I will return for her by bus in the afternoon.  Roland hasn’t been coming home on time the last few nights and so I’m not worried about having his dinner ready (whenever I do, he’s late; whenever I don’t, he’s home on time – I can’t win)

I’m grateful to those people who serve others and assistance and genuine concern and kindness.

This morning I handed a card to Alley’s mom to thank her and let her know about the compromise between me and Jenna.  I am comfortable with it.  I hope that she is too.