Spent all of Monday on a LONG road trip, down to Salem, Ore., to meet my Girlfriend's Father. That all went fine -- I was MUCH more worried about whether The New Car (bought back around Christmas) would break down somewhere along the road than I was about meeting the GF's Dad.
The trip down was four hours on busy I-5. It was around 90 degrees at our destination outside of Salem. Just south of Portland, with the temperature outside the car hovering around 89, the GF FINALLY convinced me to give the air conditioner a try, & it worked wonderfully -- & I drove the rest of the way there in a dreamy haze. Ain't technology wonderful?
Got there, met her Dad & some of the rest of her family -- nice people. Talked a lot, had some good food, tried to stay cool. Around 7 or so, we figured it was time to head back home, & it was still around 85 outside.
So I had one of my BRILLIANT IDEAS & suggested we head for the Oregon Coast, where it would be at least 20 degrees cooler than the Willamette Valley. The car had been running fine all day, I didn't want to fight the I-5 traffic again, & I hadn't seen the ocean in 10 years. It would be a nice relaxed drive home for us, so...? She said if I was up for it, she was.
Four hours down, EIGHT hours back home.
I was an idiot. I couldn't guess distances right. I was familiar with the roads north of Tillamook, Ore., so I had some idea of how far the drive back home would be. & I knew it was only about 50 miles to the ocean. What I didn't know was some of the stuff we'd encounter along the way. Not that we didn't have a fun, interesting time....
Driving into the sun as we headed west from Salem. Winding climbs into the low Coast Ranges. We saw the Marine Layer of low overcast clouds coming in from a distance, then curved off to the north to head for Tillamook. Climbed up what I thought was the last range of hills between us and the coast....
And drove right into a huge fog bank. The temperature dropped from the low 80s to the low 50s in a matter of minutes. We'd gone from summer heat to winter cool in less than 50 miles.
In the middle of the thick, shrouding fog was a road construction project -- a 15-minute wait before a pilot car led a long line of us drivers through the five-mile-long pavement-resurfacing project.
But when we dropped back down out of that and came out of the fog, we drove through the rolling green farms and leaping forest-topped hills of Tillamook Cheese country. To see all this gorgeous greenery with lakes and inlets sprinkled all through it in the evening twilight was like seeing paintings of The Shire in Middle Earth. It was all quite pretty, seemingly deserted, & very quiet around 8:30 or so.
By the time we hit the coast at Tillamook, it was pitch-dark. & apparently on Oregon's North Coast the sidewalks all roll up by 9 p.m. We finally found a gas station to fill-up the car, & bought a couple mocha frappes for some caffeine to keep us going. And we kept heading north.
Put on some music to -- I hoped -- keep me focused and motivated: Journey, Pete Townshend, Todd Rundgren, Keane. When that started to get boring, I turned on the radio and found a few "modern country" stations to keep the GF happy. Heard some pretty good stuff, too -- done mostly by women. For me, country songs seem to have more depth of feeling when women sing them.
Drove through some beautiful coastal fishing villages, gorgeous lights sparkling on the water -- almost all of them closed down tight. Could see & hear the ocean but couldn't get close to it. At one point when the caffeine got to me, we pulled over & I downed some aspirin ... and I could hear the ocean waves roaring off below us. But I couldn't see a thing.
Drove through my old stomping grounds of Raymond and South Bend, Wash., both looking very quiet in the 1 a.m. darkness. Amazing how much stupid, petty crime happened in two such small, quiet towns while I was a reporter there.
Stopped for more strong coffee at Montesano, topped-off the car and dashed for home. Finally got back to the house around 3. Was a little shaky in places -- between Tillamook and Astoria it seemed at times as if the shadows on the road in front of me were sinking into the pavement in slow motion as the bright lights from the car made them vanish. More than once or twice I thought I was seeing things. I didn't mention any of this to the GF. I KNEW I'd been driving for WAY too long.
It made for an 18-hour day, most of it on the road. I will certainly try to NEVER do THAT again. My vacation's coming up in another two weeks, and I still hope to make it over to the ocean.
During the DAYTIME, next time....
Showing posts with label vacations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vacations. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Thursday, November 3, 2011
The Boogie Monster and other adventures....
At the end of May 1986, the Air Force transferred me from San Antonio, Texas, to Cheyenne, Wyoming, where for the 1st time in my 3-year AF career I was finally gonna get the chance 2 write 4 a real base newspaper.
To celebrate, my then-wife & I took a 2-week "great circle" tour thru the Plains & the Intermountain West -- across west Texas, thru New Mexico & Arizona, then north up thru Arizona & Utah, across southern Idaho 2 see our folks in Boise, then back east across Idaho & thru the wilds of Wyoming 2 Cheyenne.
We stopped at every National Park we could find along the way -- the Grand Canyon (which is really stunning), Bryce Canyon (which isn't really a canyon), Zion (which was as awesome & as much like going 2 church as Grand), Craters of the Moon, Yellowstone, etc.
By the time we got 2 Yellowstone we were pretty tired & pretty bored with the whole thing: "What, another scenic climax...?"
When we finally got 2 my new base -- Francis E. Warren AFB on the western outskirts of Cheyenne, then the biggest intercontinental ballistic missile base in the country -- the folks at FEW put me & the Mrs. in temporary housing til we found somewhere 2 live. Their temporary housing was more like a huge cabin -- over a hill from the main base, down by a creek, surrounded by trees, quiet -- like still being on vacation.
The cabin had all the essentials -- beds, couches, TV, radio, kitchen, etc. Naturally, I turned on the stereo the 1st evening 2 C what kinda music I'd B forced 2 put up with in Cheyenne. I was dreading that it might all B Country, something like being back home in Idaho.
Instead, 1 of the 1st stations I found was (I think) KOA AM outta Denver, playing some rare R&B track from the early '60s. & then the DJ came on. He called himself The Boogie Monster.
At 1st I thot he was some kinda 2nd-rate Wolfman Jack -- same deep voice, same kinda jive come-on, a little cheezy, in a good way. But soon I realized he wasn't 2nd-rate at all. The stuff he played I'd never heard anywhere B4. & he sure had a lotta fun with it.
In fact, it soon Bcame clear that listening 2 The Boogie Monster was like some kinda lunatic had escaped from the asylum & locked himself in2 the studio with a pile of ABSOLUTELY GREAT previously forgotten records, & he was gonna play EVERY ONE OF 'EM, & you were gonna LOVE ALL OF THEM. & that's how it was gonna B 'til the police kicked down the door.
Now here's the catch: I don't remember 4 sure ANY of the stuff he played. I didn't keep any lists like that back then. I know it was all great. I think I mighta heard Brewer & Shipley's brilliant "Witchi-Tai-To" 4 the 1st time on his show, & some long but intriguing number by a short-lived late-'60s "supergroup" called Sweet Thursday. But I might B wrong. It mighta bn some other syndicated "forgotten oldies" show.
I know I listened 2 The Boogie Monster sevral times during the 3 years we lived in Cheyenne. But I know I also kinda took him 4 granted, figuring he'd always B there, & that I'd always B around (I told LOTS of people I'd stay in Wyoming til I retired if the AF would let me), that I'd have plenty of time 2 listen 2 more at my leisure. But it didn't Xactly work out that way.
Besides, I had other things on my mind, like how 2 write in English for an Air Force newspaper, how 2 run the whole thing myself, how to write, photograph, layout, & distribute the thing all over the base on Friday morning. Usually alone. Sometimes in 2 feet of snow.
Sometimes I had help. I invited 1 of my co-workers & his wife over 2 the house 4 dinner in an effort 2 make the office/work atmosphere more comfortable. Then I stumbled over the issue of What Music To Play? My co-worker & his wife were rather fundamentalist Christians, & I had no gospel or sacred music in the house. But I wanted something that rocked a LITTLE.
So I tried 2 turn them on 2 Fairport Convention -- which they said was "too morbid." That'll teach me 4 starting out with "I'll Keep it With Mine." Shoulda opened with "Listen, Listen," or "Come All Ye." Or maybe tried something else instead. The Moody Blues? Hey, if they wanted morbid, I shoulda put on Nick Drake. Or I coulda played King Crimson & just scared 'em the hell outta the house....
We also hadda couple of broadcasters in the Public Affairs Office (at 1 point we had 3, Ghod knows why), & they moonlighted with off-duty jobs at local radio stations. 1 of 'em invited me 2 drop in on him while he worked at 1a the local Album Rock stations.
So I drove over 1 nite after work & watched him do his thing as "Steve Cheyenne" on the air 4 a coupla hrs. It was pretty cool. We both cracked up about how obvious his on-air name was, & we were both frustrated by how tight the station's playlist was -- because the ramshackle studios were CRAMMED with albums -- there was vinyl piled & scattered EVERYWHERE. It was a freakin treasure-house of tunes & there were only maybe 200 songs on the station's playlist.
Just being IN the station was cool, especially at nite -- it was not at all the brightly-lit high-tech place I Xpected -- in fact, the rundown dark-shadows condition of the place was almost an Xact match 4 the station described in Gregory Nicoll's spooky 1989 horror story "Dead Air," 1 of my horror faves.
While I was in Cheyenne, a co-worker dragged me along 2 a writers' workshop in Denver, where I got 2 meet a couple of my favorite science fiction writers, Edward Bryant & Connie Willis. I found out that pro writers put their pants on just like every1 else. I raved 2 Bryant how knocked-out I'd been by his great Wyoming story, "Strata." I was pretty incoherent tho, probly sounded like an idiot. He said only a couple of people had ever noticed that story before....
Tho there was some job-related stress, I didn't realize til later that I was Living The Good Life. The X & I were no longer homesick 4 Idaho (like we had been in Texas), & despite the brutally cold winters, Wyoming was pretty great. We were pretty happy. Our son was born in Cheyenne in 1988.
But I made the mistake of telling 2 many people I'd stay permanently. & the AF sent me 2 Ankara, Turkey, at the end of 1989. That was also an adventure, but it's a whole diffrent story.
When I left Cheyenne, The Boogie Monster was still on the air. But I've never been back there, or NEwhere close 2 Denver, so I don't know if he's still on the air 20+ years later & still crankin out those great forgotten tunes. In these days of the Internet where nothing is ever forgotten, The Boogie Monster doesn't have a Wikipedia page, & I'm not even sure I got the KOA call-letters right.
But I remember. Sort of. I remember....
To celebrate, my then-wife & I took a 2-week "great circle" tour thru the Plains & the Intermountain West -- across west Texas, thru New Mexico & Arizona, then north up thru Arizona & Utah, across southern Idaho 2 see our folks in Boise, then back east across Idaho & thru the wilds of Wyoming 2 Cheyenne.
We stopped at every National Park we could find along the way -- the Grand Canyon (which is really stunning), Bryce Canyon (which isn't really a canyon), Zion (which was as awesome & as much like going 2 church as Grand), Craters of the Moon, Yellowstone, etc.
By the time we got 2 Yellowstone we were pretty tired & pretty bored with the whole thing: "What, another scenic climax...?"
When we finally got 2 my new base -- Francis E. Warren AFB on the western outskirts of Cheyenne, then the biggest intercontinental ballistic missile base in the country -- the folks at FEW put me & the Mrs. in temporary housing til we found somewhere 2 live. Their temporary housing was more like a huge cabin -- over a hill from the main base, down by a creek, surrounded by trees, quiet -- like still being on vacation.
The cabin had all the essentials -- beds, couches, TV, radio, kitchen, etc. Naturally, I turned on the stereo the 1st evening 2 C what kinda music I'd B forced 2 put up with in Cheyenne. I was dreading that it might all B Country, something like being back home in Idaho.
Instead, 1 of the 1st stations I found was (I think) KOA AM outta Denver, playing some rare R&B track from the early '60s. & then the DJ came on. He called himself The Boogie Monster.
At 1st I thot he was some kinda 2nd-rate Wolfman Jack -- same deep voice, same kinda jive come-on, a little cheezy, in a good way. But soon I realized he wasn't 2nd-rate at all. The stuff he played I'd never heard anywhere B4. & he sure had a lotta fun with it.
In fact, it soon Bcame clear that listening 2 The Boogie Monster was like some kinda lunatic had escaped from the asylum & locked himself in2 the studio with a pile of ABSOLUTELY GREAT previously forgotten records, & he was gonna play EVERY ONE OF 'EM, & you were gonna LOVE ALL OF THEM. & that's how it was gonna B 'til the police kicked down the door.
Now here's the catch: I don't remember 4 sure ANY of the stuff he played. I didn't keep any lists like that back then. I know it was all great. I think I mighta heard Brewer & Shipley's brilliant "Witchi-Tai-To" 4 the 1st time on his show, & some long but intriguing number by a short-lived late-'60s "supergroup" called Sweet Thursday. But I might B wrong. It mighta bn some other syndicated "forgotten oldies" show.
I know I listened 2 The Boogie Monster sevral times during the 3 years we lived in Cheyenne. But I know I also kinda took him 4 granted, figuring he'd always B there, & that I'd always B around (I told LOTS of people I'd stay in Wyoming til I retired if the AF would let me), that I'd have plenty of time 2 listen 2 more at my leisure. But it didn't Xactly work out that way.
Besides, I had other things on my mind, like how 2 write in English for an Air Force newspaper, how 2 run the whole thing myself, how to write, photograph, layout, & distribute the thing all over the base on Friday morning. Usually alone. Sometimes in 2 feet of snow.
Sometimes I had help. I invited 1 of my co-workers & his wife over 2 the house 4 dinner in an effort 2 make the office/work atmosphere more comfortable. Then I stumbled over the issue of What Music To Play? My co-worker & his wife were rather fundamentalist Christians, & I had no gospel or sacred music in the house. But I wanted something that rocked a LITTLE.
So I tried 2 turn them on 2 Fairport Convention -- which they said was "too morbid." That'll teach me 4 starting out with "I'll Keep it With Mine." Shoulda opened with "Listen, Listen," or "Come All Ye." Or maybe tried something else instead. The Moody Blues? Hey, if they wanted morbid, I shoulda put on Nick Drake. Or I coulda played King Crimson & just scared 'em the hell outta the house....
We also hadda couple of broadcasters in the Public Affairs Office (at 1 point we had 3, Ghod knows why), & they moonlighted with off-duty jobs at local radio stations. 1 of 'em invited me 2 drop in on him while he worked at 1a the local Album Rock stations.
So I drove over 1 nite after work & watched him do his thing as "Steve Cheyenne" on the air 4 a coupla hrs. It was pretty cool. We both cracked up about how obvious his on-air name was, & we were both frustrated by how tight the station's playlist was -- because the ramshackle studios were CRAMMED with albums -- there was vinyl piled & scattered EVERYWHERE. It was a freakin treasure-house of tunes & there were only maybe 200 songs on the station's playlist.
Just being IN the station was cool, especially at nite -- it was not at all the brightly-lit high-tech place I Xpected -- in fact, the rundown dark-shadows condition of the place was almost an Xact match 4 the station described in Gregory Nicoll's spooky 1989 horror story "Dead Air," 1 of my horror faves.
While I was in Cheyenne, a co-worker dragged me along 2 a writers' workshop in Denver, where I got 2 meet a couple of my favorite science fiction writers, Edward Bryant & Connie Willis. I found out that pro writers put their pants on just like every1 else. I raved 2 Bryant how knocked-out I'd been by his great Wyoming story, "Strata." I was pretty incoherent tho, probly sounded like an idiot. He said only a couple of people had ever noticed that story before....
Tho there was some job-related stress, I didn't realize til later that I was Living The Good Life. The X & I were no longer homesick 4 Idaho (like we had been in Texas), & despite the brutally cold winters, Wyoming was pretty great. We were pretty happy. Our son was born in Cheyenne in 1988.
But I made the mistake of telling 2 many people I'd stay permanently. & the AF sent me 2 Ankara, Turkey, at the end of 1989. That was also an adventure, but it's a whole diffrent story.
When I left Cheyenne, The Boogie Monster was still on the air. But I've never been back there, or NEwhere close 2 Denver, so I don't know if he's still on the air 20+ years later & still crankin out those great forgotten tunes. In these days of the Internet where nothing is ever forgotten, The Boogie Monster doesn't have a Wikipedia page, & I'm not even sure I got the KOA call-letters right.
But I remember. Sort of. I remember....
Monday, October 3, 2011
The Last Exit
It's April 1979 & I'm sitting in a cold & drafty coffeehouse called The Last Exit in Seattle's University District, not far from the University of Washington's huge red-cobblestoned courtyard.
It's cold, rainy & foggy outside, & drafty inside, where moisture is condensing on the inside of the windows, barely reflected in the pale interior light. I realize I haven't been this cold & wet in a LONG time.
I'm no dummy -- I know it rains a lot in Washington, I went 2 junior-highschool here, & I remembered the way the rain usedta POUR down 4 DAYS. But that was when I was younger & that stuff didn't bother me -- sometimes I'd even go out & wander around in it....
The espresso I'm trying 2 force down is pretty bitter 2 -- not at all what I expected. How can I drink coffee with NO SUGAR?
Up at the front of the room, some Bob Dylan wanna-be is singing as he strums his guitar. I'm not a big Dylan fan but somehow I know that Bob is Safe.
I'm in Seattle with my highschool sweetheart Allison, 2 visit our old college friend Melissa, who has an apartment within walking distance of the UW. Somehow, Al & I have survived me driving a huge old (mid-'60s) boat-sized Chevy stationwagon 600+ miles from Boise, Idaho all across Oregon & then north 2 Seattle. Amazingly, the car didn't break down. & Al & I R still talking 2 each other. In fact, we're closer than we've been in 2 years.
The only mistake we made was relying on the radio 2 help fight the boredom. The Chevy didn't have a tape-player. There Rn't 2 many radio stations in the wilds of Eastern Oregon. & when we came up over a hill just east of Baker, suddenly the radio Al had been trying 2 coax 2 life erupted in what sounded like The Voice Of Ghod: "AND NOW THE ADVENTURES OF GOD'S OWN AGRICULTURALIST, GEORGE WASHINGTON CARVER...." Somehow we survived that 2....
Melissa's apt is a tiny dorm-style room -- she spends mosta her time at her boyfriend Jim's apt, which is on the 14th floor of a building that towers over the U District. Turns out Jim's a pretty big progressive-rock fan. As we talk, he pulls out old albums by The Nice (ARS LONGA VITA BREVIS, THE THOUGHTS OF EMERLIST DAVJACK, WINTER TO SPRING, THE IMMEDIATE STORY), Manfred Mann's Earth Band (MESSIN', GET YOUR ROCKS OFF, SOLAR FIRE, THE GOOD EARTH, NIGHTINGALES AND BOMBERS), & Roxy Music (COUNTRY LIFE, STRANDED). Some of this he even puts on the stereo, & it sounds pretty good. Most of it I'll never hear again....
His musical intrests go with mine, & we get along OK. After all, I'm the guy who stuffed 30+ albums in2 a box & packed them in the car cos I didn't think I could get thru a week without them. I packed music B4 I packed CLOTHES. I don't think I played more than a couple albums during the entire week we were in Seattle. But somehow I couldn't have managed without Camel's BREATHLESS & Providence's EVER SENSE THE DAWN & Gryphon's RED QUEEN TO GRYPHON THREE & Caravan's FOR GIRLS WHO GROW PLUMP IN THE NIGHT.
Turns out the U District is a good neighborhood 4 prog fans -- there's 1/2adozen used record stores in 1 block along University Blvd. -- I walk in2 the 1st 1 & I feel like I've Come Home: There's a huge cut-out stand-up of Soft Machine from their 1st album along the top of 1 record cabinet. There's stuff hanging from the ceiling & weird album covers all around. I think I'm already pretty well-informed musically, & I've got NO IDEA what mosta this stuff is....
1 shop is looking 4 help, so I apply. It's a million-2-1 shot that I'll actually get the job & B able 2 stay in Seattle, but I love the atmosphere of the U District -- not just the used record stores, but the used bookstores & 1 great little cozy Chinese restaurant -- SO MUCH more Xciting & intresting than Boise, where I've lived most of my life up 2 this point....
The record store gives me a Rock trivia test over the phone -- I botch about 1/2 of it. I don't get the job. But tho I'm bummed, at least I've got all this great atmosphere 2 drink up.... I never do get thru that bitter espresso, tho.
Al loves the atmosphere 2, & vows 2 come back -- & she does, less than a year later. I'm supposed 2 follow her there, but instead I get hired by my favorite record store in Boise, & decide 2 stay. The record store job lasts 3 years & 4 awhile I have a place of my own (low-rent as it was). But eventually the job ends badly & I end up unemployed 4 a year & finally join the Air Force.
It takes me 16 years 2 get back 2 Washington & I never go back 2 The Last Exit -- but I know the U District is still there, & I'm told there R still tons of used book & record stores 2 wander thru. I've got 2 get back over there someday....
It's cold, rainy & foggy outside, & drafty inside, where moisture is condensing on the inside of the windows, barely reflected in the pale interior light. I realize I haven't been this cold & wet in a LONG time.
I'm no dummy -- I know it rains a lot in Washington, I went 2 junior-highschool here, & I remembered the way the rain usedta POUR down 4 DAYS. But that was when I was younger & that stuff didn't bother me -- sometimes I'd even go out & wander around in it....
The espresso I'm trying 2 force down is pretty bitter 2 -- not at all what I expected. How can I drink coffee with NO SUGAR?
Up at the front of the room, some Bob Dylan wanna-be is singing as he strums his guitar. I'm not a big Dylan fan but somehow I know that Bob is Safe.
I'm in Seattle with my highschool sweetheart Allison, 2 visit our old college friend Melissa, who has an apartment within walking distance of the UW. Somehow, Al & I have survived me driving a huge old (mid-'60s) boat-sized Chevy stationwagon 600+ miles from Boise, Idaho all across Oregon & then north 2 Seattle. Amazingly, the car didn't break down. & Al & I R still talking 2 each other. In fact, we're closer than we've been in 2 years.
The only mistake we made was relying on the radio 2 help fight the boredom. The Chevy didn't have a tape-player. There Rn't 2 many radio stations in the wilds of Eastern Oregon. & when we came up over a hill just east of Baker, suddenly the radio Al had been trying 2 coax 2 life erupted in what sounded like The Voice Of Ghod: "AND NOW THE ADVENTURES OF GOD'S OWN AGRICULTURALIST, GEORGE WASHINGTON CARVER...." Somehow we survived that 2....
Melissa's apt is a tiny dorm-style room -- she spends mosta her time at her boyfriend Jim's apt, which is on the 14th floor of a building that towers over the U District. Turns out Jim's a pretty big progressive-rock fan. As we talk, he pulls out old albums by The Nice (ARS LONGA VITA BREVIS, THE THOUGHTS OF EMERLIST DAVJACK, WINTER TO SPRING, THE IMMEDIATE STORY), Manfred Mann's Earth Band (MESSIN', GET YOUR ROCKS OFF, SOLAR FIRE, THE GOOD EARTH, NIGHTINGALES AND BOMBERS), & Roxy Music (COUNTRY LIFE, STRANDED). Some of this he even puts on the stereo, & it sounds pretty good. Most of it I'll never hear again....
His musical intrests go with mine, & we get along OK. After all, I'm the guy who stuffed 30+ albums in2 a box & packed them in the car cos I didn't think I could get thru a week without them. I packed music B4 I packed CLOTHES. I don't think I played more than a couple albums during the entire week we were in Seattle. But somehow I couldn't have managed without Camel's BREATHLESS & Providence's EVER SENSE THE DAWN & Gryphon's RED QUEEN TO GRYPHON THREE & Caravan's FOR GIRLS WHO GROW PLUMP IN THE NIGHT.
Turns out the U District is a good neighborhood 4 prog fans -- there's 1/2adozen used record stores in 1 block along University Blvd. -- I walk in2 the 1st 1 & I feel like I've Come Home: There's a huge cut-out stand-up of Soft Machine from their 1st album along the top of 1 record cabinet. There's stuff hanging from the ceiling & weird album covers all around. I think I'm already pretty well-informed musically, & I've got NO IDEA what mosta this stuff is....
1 shop is looking 4 help, so I apply. It's a million-2-1 shot that I'll actually get the job & B able 2 stay in Seattle, but I love the atmosphere of the U District -- not just the used record stores, but the used bookstores & 1 great little cozy Chinese restaurant -- SO MUCH more Xciting & intresting than Boise, where I've lived most of my life up 2 this point....
The record store gives me a Rock trivia test over the phone -- I botch about 1/2 of it. I don't get the job. But tho I'm bummed, at least I've got all this great atmosphere 2 drink up.... I never do get thru that bitter espresso, tho.
Al loves the atmosphere 2, & vows 2 come back -- & she does, less than a year later. I'm supposed 2 follow her there, but instead I get hired by my favorite record store in Boise, & decide 2 stay. The record store job lasts 3 years & 4 awhile I have a place of my own (low-rent as it was). But eventually the job ends badly & I end up unemployed 4 a year & finally join the Air Force.
It takes me 16 years 2 get back 2 Washington & I never go back 2 The Last Exit -- but I know the U District is still there, & I'm told there R still tons of used book & record stores 2 wander thru. I've got 2 get back over there someday....
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