When Life Hands You Lemons, Make Hand Grenades...

On leaving Portland on the morning of May 3rd, the weather quickly turned ugly. Gale force winds, hail the size of circuit-bent Buddha Machines, lightning, Oregon State Patrol Officers with musicological inquiries... We witnessed the lot.



(Graham waves goodbye to the city that stole his soul. Er, heart! Heart! Or, sobriety. I forget which.)



(The clouds descend...)



(Storms roll in from the city, engulfing the nearby hills.)



(Hail began falling around us. We ducked the worst of it, but in the business zone along the highway and residential areas further up the grade, chaos ensued.)



(The storm system veered East, but heavy rains dogged us for another three hours...)



(Time for a Weed break...)



(A cop pulled us over shortly after the rest stop. He let us off with a warning; perhaps because we were all wearing seat belts (nerds that we are), and possibly because Rat summoned sufficient decorum to claim that our combo was, and I quote, "Bigger than Jesus, those Radiohead cocksuckers, Impaled Nazarene, anyone you fucking care to name!" Thank Christ the patrolman was a Druid...)



(A certain someone mocks the legal proceedings. Guess it's not illegal for a passenger to Photoshop near Weed.)



(All clear...)

---

A couple of hours into Northern California, of course, the mountains ebbed into the distance, and monotony was the rule. It was good to get blasted by nature, of course. Three of our party were Hurricane Andrew vets, so it pleased us to be pissed on by Pacific currents...

TS

Comments

james squeaky said…
Hilarious Tom... you rule!
Portland misses you guys, come back soon.

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