My OperaThe Ears Survived!
Tuesday, June 27, 2006 6:37:04 AM
From: Seattle
To: Newport, Oregon (the Oregon coast)
Miles: 368
MPG: 50.4
The day started well with Jessica driving for the first day, and both ear-mirrors on the car survived!
WWII Bomber
So, what do you do with a surplus WWII bomber? Build a gas station under it of course! We’ll defer to the “official” explanation as to how it got here:
“Shortly after WWII a guy named Art Lacey went to Kansas to buy a surplus B-17. His idea was to fly it back to Oregon, jack it up in the air and make a gas station out of it. He paid $15,000 for it. He asked which one was his and they said take whichever you want because there were miles of them. He didn't know how to fly a 4 engine airplane so he read the manual while he taxied around by himself. They said he couldn't take off alone so he put a mannequin in the co-pilot's seat and off he went.
He flew around a bit to get the feel of it and when he went to land he realized he needed a co-pilot to lower the landing gear. He crashed and totaled his plane and another on the ground. They wrote them both off as "wind damaged" and told him to pick out another. He talked a friend into being his co-pilot and off they went.
They flew to Palm Springs where Lacey wrote a hot check for gas then they headed for Oregon. They hit a snow storm and couldn't find their way so they went down below 1,000 feet and followed the railroad tracks. His partner sat in the nose section and would yell, "TUNNEL" when he saw one and Lacey would climb over the mountain.
They landed safely, he made good the hot check he wrote, and they started getting permits to move a B-17 on the state highway. The highway department repeatedly denied his permit and fought him tooth and nail for a long time so late one Saturday night he just moved it himself. He got a $10 ticket from the police for having too wide a load.”
The Spruce Goose
Continuing the aviation theme, we decided to go visit the Spruce Goose, which now found a home in rural Oregon (after Disney bought then sold it – guess Howard Hughes’ dream wasn’t good enough for the mouse.) Jon decided that the only word to describe it the thing as “gi-normous.” It dwarfed the SR-71 and Titan II rocket next to it.
Unfortunately, the winery that was part of the museum (Spruce Goose Wines) was not nearly as impressive.
Pinot Noir Country
Ahh, the perfect antidote to Nebraska wine…now this is the good stuff! First, we sampled wines at two different wineries in the northern Willamette Valley
Next, we headed to the Oregon Wine Tasting Room, where our guide – a very friendly and knowledgeable wine enthusiast named Patrick – pointed out something that Jon found simply astounding: For perhaps the first time ever, it has been determined that Jessica does not always naturally select the most expensive of everything. Turns out that she prefers the fruitier, more modestly priced Pinot Noirs to the more expensive (and generally oakier) bottles. Of course, she quickly cashed in on this preference using what Jon thought of as the less than air tight logic that buying less expensive wine meant that more could, and therefore should, be purchased. (“So really we’re saving money.”)
We stopped for the night in Newport, Oregon. It was a charming little coastal fishing town that is now overrun by tourists, but it’s still a convenient place to stop for the night.
To: Newport, Oregon (the Oregon coast)
Miles: 368
MPG: 50.4
The day started well with Jessica driving for the first day, and both ear-mirrors on the car survived!
WWII Bomber
So, what do you do with a surplus WWII bomber? Build a gas station under it of course! We’ll defer to the “official” explanation as to how it got here:
“Shortly after WWII a guy named Art Lacey went to Kansas to buy a surplus B-17. His idea was to fly it back to Oregon, jack it up in the air and make a gas station out of it. He paid $15,000 for it. He asked which one was his and they said take whichever you want because there were miles of them. He didn't know how to fly a 4 engine airplane so he read the manual while he taxied around by himself. They said he couldn't take off alone so he put a mannequin in the co-pilot's seat and off he went.
He flew around a bit to get the feel of it and when he went to land he realized he needed a co-pilot to lower the landing gear. He crashed and totaled his plane and another on the ground. They wrote them both off as "wind damaged" and told him to pick out another. He talked a friend into being his co-pilot and off they went.
They flew to Palm Springs where Lacey wrote a hot check for gas then they headed for Oregon. They hit a snow storm and couldn't find their way so they went down below 1,000 feet and followed the railroad tracks. His partner sat in the nose section and would yell, "TUNNEL" when he saw one and Lacey would climb over the mountain.
They landed safely, he made good the hot check he wrote, and they started getting permits to move a B-17 on the state highway. The highway department repeatedly denied his permit and fought him tooth and nail for a long time so late one Saturday night he just moved it himself. He got a $10 ticket from the police for having too wide a load.”
The Spruce Goose
Continuing the aviation theme, we decided to go visit the Spruce Goose, which now found a home in rural Oregon (after Disney bought then sold it – guess Howard Hughes’ dream wasn’t good enough for the mouse.) Jon decided that the only word to describe it the thing as “gi-normous.” It dwarfed the SR-71 and Titan II rocket next to it.
Unfortunately, the winery that was part of the museum (Spruce Goose Wines) was not nearly as impressive.
Pinot Noir Country
Ahh, the perfect antidote to Nebraska wine…now this is the good stuff! First, we sampled wines at two different wineries in the northern Willamette Valley
Next, we headed to the Oregon Wine Tasting Room, where our guide – a very friendly and knowledgeable wine enthusiast named Patrick – pointed out something that Jon found simply astounding: For perhaps the first time ever, it has been determined that Jessica does not always naturally select the most expensive of everything. Turns out that she prefers the fruitier, more modestly priced Pinot Noirs to the more expensive (and generally oakier) bottles. Of course, she quickly cashed in on this preference using what Jon thought of as the less than air tight logic that buying less expensive wine meant that more could, and therefore should, be purchased. (“So really we’re saving money.”)
We stopped for the night in Newport, Oregon. It was a charming little coastal fishing town that is now overrun by tourists, but it’s still a convenient place to stop for the night.
