Wheels

Okay, I’m hopping around the years again.

When I was younger I had a reputation for owning fast vehicles. My 47 Jeep wasn’t fast but got me damned near anywhere I wanted to go. My first car was a 68 Torino GT that was fast enough to get me in trouble. I then had a 72 Mustang followed by a 70 Ranchero.

The engine in the Ranchero was a Boss 351 that was built up further. I ended up with double 4 barrel carburetors on it.

About the same time I had a 77 Suzuki built up for drag racing. Both the bike and Ranchero were clocked at over 150 miles per hour. Yes, I was a little crazy!

My cousin Terri pulled a good joke on us with the mustang. Somehow she convinced Steve to sit on a pillow on the center console when we went downtown. On Yakima Avenue we pulled up next to another car and she quickly ducked down. The other car saw what looked like two guys snuggled up together. Good joke Terri! Steve was quick to pull her back up.

I decide to ride my Suzuki up to see Grandpa Sorenson in Sequim. The bike was very fast but barely got 20 miles per gallon. With a 5 gallon tank range between fillups was limited.

This was during the times of gas shortages where stations were only open every other day. I barely made it to Morton for a fillup and a place on Hood canal for my next. This thing was stripped down for racing with low slung drag bars so it was not a comfortable long distance ride.

The 4 into 1 header on it made it sound like an orchard spray rig gone crazy. I made it to Grandpa’s house and extracted the motorcycle from my rear end.

Grandpa Sorenson and I had a great relationship and he immediately subjected me to tasting the wines he had started making. I was not a wine fan at the time but realize now that his raspberry and one other wine were pretty good. Some of the others were best classified as chemical weapons.

Grandpa’s second wife, Dorothea had her daughter and family show up the next day. Grandpa quietly told me that we would leave her to her company and the two of us would go to his CB club meeting. We decided the two of us on my bike would be awkward and took his pickup.

There were about 20 people at the meeting which was held at a local restaurant. A lot of the others were having mixed drinks and Grandpa asked me if I knew a good drink. I told him I thought margaritas were good and ordered two. They served them on the rocks and did not scrimp on the tequila. Grandpa said it was good but a little salty not having experienced a salted rim before.

He tried to fix me up with the only younger female in the club. She was over six foot and I think might have been Paul Bunyan’s offspring. She was blonde and of Norwegian descent so it didn’t matter to Grandpa that she could probably whip most guys at arm wrestling! I barely escaped that fate.

When the meeting was over, Grandpa swayed a little when he stood up. He then asked me if I had ever driven his truck, handed me the keys, and told me to drive us home to try it out. I then realized that the margarita I bought him made him a little tipsy.

He started singing in Norwegian on the way back and I did my best not to laugh. Grandpa and I had a good time on my visit but time to go home came around.

I stopped on Hood canal to get oysters which I had in an ice chest strapped on the back of the bike. Before I hit Shelton it started to rain which soon became a torrent. I was soaked and cold and finally tucked in behind a semi that acted like a partial rain block. It looked like solid walls of water on both sides and I couldn’t see much.

The rain finally tapered off and I realized I had missed the Mary’s Corner turnoff and was at Castle rock. I knew a cutoff through Toledo that went to highway 12. None of the gas stations on the way were open and I was already on my reserve tank. It ran out of gas and I coasted into a station at Mayfield lake that was miraculously open! It had been closed on the trip over.

I was running low again but made it to Trout Lodge. I knew the Sartin family who owned the station there. I knocked on their front door and Duane filled my tank. I finally got back home. I was wet, tired, and sore but I had oysters and two bottles of Grandpa’s wine.

Mom stuck the dandelion one under their bed because I told her it was remarkably terrible. It later exploded one night while they were sleeping. I guess Mom almost hit the ceiling.

I have another tale about Steve and I visiting Grandpa that I will relate later. Bye!

• Vehicles