Yesterday Diane took her Mom, Jean, shopping for groceries at Fred Meyer in Scappoose. On the way, Diane suggested that I go see what’s happening at the car show being held at the Spring Meadows Old Folks Home, which is almost directly across Highway 30 from Freddies. Thinking I might enjoy that, vs. wandering around the store with no direction, I agreed and took over the driver’s seat after Diane and Mom exited the vehicle.

The car show was put on by the Highway 30 Cruisers, a local car club which I’ve been asked to join because I have an old 1968 Chevy truck. Since the truck isn’t a piece of work one would normally display at a car show I’ve been hesitant but after today, I’m not so sure.

“Why,” you may ask, to which I would respond, “because they have a show category right up my alley. It’s called “In Progress”, and here’s the winner for the show …

There was a little history on the old truck explaining that the owner found the truck at the bottom of a lake where it had resided for many years. There was no mention of how it got there, or if he was the original owner, but, considering his age, I would venture to say it may have belonged to his grandfather, or someone in that age category. Neither was there any mention of what it took to render the truck drivable after draining all the water out of it, but I’d guess it wasn’t an easy process. The did report, however, that nothing has been done to the body since returning it to daylight, and a quick peek around the bottom of the doors indicates it has a serious rust issue going on. Mine doesn’t. So, I could enter mine in this category with confidence that I could at least get second place. Now all I have to do is get the transmission fixed, replace the flywheel, and have someone with more knowledge than me adjust the starter so it doesn’t break anything when engaged. Once there, I’ll join the club and share my good fortune as it  happens.

Here’s an old 50-something Chevy hardtop that was pretty nice. It’s an interesting color. I talked with the owner for a while, another old guy, as are all the folks who had their cars in the show. He gave me the history on the car, but I can’t remember what he told me. But, it was a nice visit.

The next photo is of a card attached to the inside of the windshield of an old model A (I think) with a rumble seat. I’ve mentioned in the past, many times, I’m sure, that Mrs. Roney picked me up at school in one of these and drove me to her house for my piano lessons. She did that for five years, second through sixth grade. I always rode in the rumble seat. What fun. I don’t think anyone’s likely to ride in the rumble seat on this rig.
The next one is owned by an old friend, Gary, with whom I played drums in the high school band in 1961, or so. It’s a 1936 Plymouth in pristine condition. We had a good time in the back row of the band. When I got to his car I saw Spud & Leonna. That was odd, because Spud was a year ahead of me in high school and I inherited the #1 drummer position when he graduated, and there we were, three old Scappoose High School drummers. Small world, huh? Well, it’s not a large town so it’s not really unusual.

This Corvair belongs to Dave, one of my classmates from high school. Someone told me he had to push it to the show, but I later learned that was a bald-faced lie. He drove it there just fine. He’s married to Janice, one of Diane’s high school classmates.

I’ve decided that I’m not going to do anything with the body of my truck, but I’ll do this under the hood. The only difference will be mine has a 454, not a 427. Should look nice in a rusty grey truck, don’t you think?As I wandered around, aimlessly, looking at the vehicles on display, I encountered one of Diane’s old boyfriends, Pinky, who still owes me $20 for a pair of chrome rims I sold him. I’ve been reminding him about that for the last 50 years, but he won’t pay me. I think they’re worth more now, but he says he no longer has them so it’s really a moot point because I can’t prove I sold them to him. I will, however, point out his failure to pay whenever I see him. We do, by the way, get along just fine. I just like to rub his fur the wrong way a little. Besides, I got Diane, he didn’t. Maybe he figures that took care of the $20 he owed me, but I don’t see it that way. I’d expand on that a little, but I see absolutely no way I can do so without digging this huge hole from which I would never exit. So, I’ll move along.

This morning we got up early and left the house at 0900 and headed for Big Eddy Park over by Vernonia on Highway 47. Jennifer, Daniel, Lydia, and Jeran spent the last few days there for their Church Camp, when we’ve attended in the past with them, and Daniel was delivering the message at their out-door church service in the park. We made it in plenty of time and really enjoyed the service. There was a lot of singing, a little praying, then Daniel gave us a sermon that was spot on. He explained how he had plenty of time to get his talk all written out, but he put it off in favor of other things … like TV, video games, books, etc. Suddenly, it was time to produce the goods and he wasn’t quite ready until he realized that his actions were the topic … about how we get sidetracked by mundane things instead of focusing on God and the wonders He provides. It was pretty perfect and we’re really proud of Daniel.

After the service we headed for the car while everyone else got in line for the potluck. It was best that we didn’t stay because while walking to the service from where we parked, next to Jennifer, I was carrying a jar of salsa. Jennifer was walking in front of me and just as we got to the table, the lid came off, like magic, and the motion of my swinging arm provided exactly the right momentum to expel a large amount of the salsa all over the back of Jennifer’s legs. It was a mess and I was properly embarrassed for a pretty short time, until another Jennifer got our Jennifer all wiped down, and I was able to kick dirt over the other remaining evidence of the mishap. It was completely innocent, but it’s something I will probably hear about for a long time. Not staying for the pot luck also ensured that we didn’t find it necessary to eat any of the remaining salsa, leaving more for others.

Our destination from Big Eddy was the old Trojan Nuclear facility just south of Rainier on Highway 30. That’s where the 2014 picnic was happening for the class of ’62. We do picnics every year so this was, in reality, our 53rd reunion. Trojan is where I worked for a couple of years for PGE right after getting out of the Navy in 1989, so it was familiar territory for me. I used to take care of all the computers for everyone there. All by myself. For two years. A daunting task for someone with no formal computer repair training. I figured it out, however, and managed to stick around with PGE for 21 years.

There were 25 classmates and many spouses at the reunion, so we had a great time visiting. Here’s what we looked like today …

I’m in there somewhere. And, thanks to my handy little remote, I took this photo. We’re a pretty varied, and ambulatory group of old folks who are all pretty much 70 years old. Considering that we only had 99 in our graduating class, I think we’re hanging in there nicely.

Now, since i didn’t get to finish my morning nap, I’m going to bed.