Two days and we're off, into the ruddy desert to chase down the American dream circa 1873. Oregon's outback is the last refuge of the dreamer. A place not yet chronicled (well) in print. We seek refuge from the veridian smog choked skyline of stumptown. Though I fear the open space will drive H mad with discomfort.
There is something claustrophobic about Portland Oregon. Maybe it is the overwhelming abundance of pseudo-hippie wanna be eco warriors who champion the cause of mother earth by distibuting trees worth of leaflets and going "bike rabid" at anyone who isn't smeared in patchoolie and their own acrid scent. Take a bath people. I can't help wondering if the green cause has been derailed by the pseudo-hippies lack of focus. I am a purist who prides himself on being able to recognize the indwelling random art that is the Universe. So forgive me if I find the idea of hippie beaureucrats both funny and sad.
More from the road.
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