Olivia the VW, June 2021

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This is the year this girl turns 50. 

I drive a 50 year old car. The styling, though, is timeless. 

I call this Olivia on Sandy Boulevard (Parkrose Interlude 2021). 

She's washed, lubed, the oil's been changed (just in time, I'd say) and the valves have been adjusted. It's hard to fine good VW mechanics and ours is damned good ... and a bit off-the-beam. But classic VW mechanics are like mad scientists, in the good way. 

When it finally cools the hell down, I've the idea to road trip with her down through Silverton because that's where I learned to love VWs. Many pixs should ensue from that ... but that's anon. 

Anonish.

Olivia, Hanging on a Back Street

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Another thing that's at my back when shooting the peak is trusty Olivia, the VW. Over the years, however, the City'o'Portland's idea of where you can temporarily stop while picture-taking and where you can't have assumed vaguely comic proportion; at present, there is now no parking availability on NE 122nd between Fremont and Shaver on either side of the street, and curb parking on Shaver is verboten about 200 feet either side of 122nd.

My strategem in this wise is as follows: Usually coming out of the west along Sandy from downtown Parkrose, south on NE 112th to Shaver, and west on Shaver to the point where the no-parking zone begins, right across the street from the entry to Parkrose HS. 

The walk is a little aggravating, but good for me. I need to walk more. The Brown Eyed Girl will back me up on this opinion.

It does make for a charming portrait, anyway. 

Olivia In Repose Somewhere In Cully

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No real agenda here, peoples ... just a 1972 VW Beetle livin' her best Cascadian life. Oh, yeah. The world ain't totally broken.

She could use a bath, tho.

A Tarnished Angel On A Side Street

3706This I saw over the last week along the street leading up to the Chez ZehnKatzen...

It is unclear what this Type I's destiny is to be. I've the feeling she's on teh way to some restoration. But she's looking good in her somewhat-rusty glory (and unless you're a real maintenance freak there is no such thing as a vintage VeeDub without rust).

There is this: the house it's parked beside loves VW's as much as I do but has the spare funds to restore them to the glory Gott intended: they have a Type II, split windscreen, and that baby is immaculate. So, certainly good things are in store for this one.

A couple of technical points: the windscreen is curved out, not flat, marking this as 1974 or after (and judging by the obvious wear and tear, which is equivalent to that of Olivia, my '72, it's proabably right around '74 or '75) and the tail light gems are what they call the 'elephant's foot' style, which was '73 and onwards.

Olivia's taillights are the cheerfully-nicknamed "tombstone" style, for what that's worth.

Tales of Olivia: Eighty-eight, Eight Eighty-eight ... Point Eight

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So, on the way home from work, going straight home as every good citizen who does not want to get tagged by COVID-19 should be doing, the-editorial-we stopped to notice this:

Olivia drew a full house today. Eighty-eight thousand, Eight hundred and eighty-eight miles, and eight-tenths. It was double-fortunate in a way: it happened in such a way that I could pull over, on SE Cherry Blossom Dr, pointing southeast, just past the intersection of SE 107th Avenue, and it happened in such a way that I could pull just past the intersection, out of the flow of traffic, and have all those eights line up perfectly.

A lot of people do this and it almost never happens that they line up so sweet. I hope this wasn't the day I was supposed to buy that lottery ticket.

This was the view of Cherry Blossom Drive out Olivia's windscreen at that point.

Mill Ends Park 2, Side of Olivia

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So, to show that not everything in these times of dexterity are dismal, I noted a thing that was meant to be temporary was still there and not in my photo library yet, so I went and got it, and a guest star besides.

Mill Ends Park is one of the most Portlandest things that ever Portlanded in Portland. Originally a post hole, it was first cared for by a columnist for the late, great Oregon Journal newspaper whose home was, at the time, a very large, white, double-masted building that vaguely resembled an art deco cruise liner where Tom McCall Waterfront park is now. Dick Fagan populated it with leprechauns and named if after his column, and eventually the hole, in the median of what we now call SW Naito Parkway at the foot of Taylor Street, became a local legend and then an official city park.

A 2-foot wide city park.

And over time small plants would be there and people would arrange little figures of people and dinosaurs and such and it was all very kind and fun. But sometime, about two years ago, some chowderhead cut the small tree that was growing there, out. And we all found out and it became one of the most Portlandest stories that ever Portlanded in the media, and everyone had the sad about it.

Somehow, during that time, almost as though in response to the destruction, someone got the idea that  the west side of the Willamette shouldn't have all the fun. And thus, in an asphalt island in the gore point of where SE Thorburn Street, a main route around the shoulder of Mount Tabor feeding East Burnside Street traffic down into downtown Montavilla, split into the couplet of SE Stark and Washington streets there, someone placed two planters, a sign, and a wooden sword in a wooden stone, and we got this:

The sign, while it looks kinda official, is not; Portland Parks and Recreation have said as much. But they're good sports about it all, and haven't disturbed it, and neither has anyone else.

And here's the fair Olivia, alongside:

Mill Ends Park 2, and Olivia: both actual size.

And so it goes.

Wy'east March Cloudcap

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From snow a day ago to balmy weather now. The end of the world's at least got sunny weather and good views?

Today, Wy'east put on his cap.

Another Olivia-enabled picture. The field in foreground, as usual, thoughtfully provided by Rossi Farms. Long may they grow.

March, 2020 and Snow in Portland

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You just can't scrute the Gods of Cascadian weather these days.

Going into the weekend we heard of a chance (as uttered by our properly-reticent Portland weather people, who know when not to take a chance on such things) of snow. Global warming notwithstanding, it does rarely happen in Oregon and the Northwest; I even remember a freak April snow when I was but a neat thing in Silverton.

But that was then and this is now, and we all figured that a chance, around here, was as good as nothing. And then, on Saturday morning, this:

Say hello to Olivia, who's back in service, gadding me about as I need. Yes, it feels as good as I figured it would.

Here's NE 122nd near Sacramento:

... and here's Gethsemane Lutheran Church, near the Chez, corner 117th and SE Market. Mod design on it. Looks like a pyramid from this angle, which is a strange Christian aesthetic, but there's no accounting for interpretive style.

This makes for a true change in regime, climate-wise. Because when I was a kid, snow happened in the mountains and everywhere else but the Willamette Valley. Winters were gray. But now, just about every winter for the last several, there's been a chance of snow that's manifested itself in a storm (sometimes, remarkably so).

The Prodigal VW

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Today, Olivia returned to us.

Seven months ago, more or less, this was the scene in front of Chez ZehnKatzen:

The beloved Olivia, bricked engine and all, being loaded on a flatbed for the transit to repair.

This is about 7 months ago, when Olivia was being transported over to FixUm Haus on North Lombard, about 13 miles away (Portland feels like a small town until one has to get across it). Danny from Team Towing did the work and, as I said on the blog, if there's a more squarely professional driver on this earth I've not met them yet. 

Coming home from FixUm Haus was bliss in a very real way. Lombard turned to Portland Highway to Killingsworth to Sandy Blvd, then south on 122nd to the home ground. As pleasant as all that was, the part of the drive on 122nd was absolutely the best.

But, alas! I had left the exported tool bag (with my car stereo's face place) home. No matter. I sang Al Stewart songs. "Lord Grenville", "Time Passages" and "On the Border".

That last one twice. It's amongst my favorites.

My singing voice ain't half bad. Maybe I should have done that for a living.

And so it goes ... vroom vroom. Fahrvergnuegen, and all that.

The Olivia Report: Olivia The VW Goes To The VW Hospital

3587After two months of stress, worrying, deprivation and hope, we've finally gotten the ball rolling.

Olivia, Our lil' yellow VeeDubya, went to the hospital today to have her heart torn down and rebuilt.

Somewhere around the 8-9AM hour, our old friend from Team Towing, Danny, and if there's a more squarely-professional buckle-down-and-get-it-done tow driver on this planet, we've not yet met them, brought out the flatbed and we got the process in motion.

Even without power it's nice to see her moving down the street, you know that?

One tow bill later, we've gotten her from Outer East Portlandia to the hospital in Saint Johns ... a place called Fix-Um Haus. We've spoken with Rich, the proprietor, at length about the prospect of fixing the engine and what impresses me the most about him as that as he's talking about fixing the motor he's reeling off a detailed plan in his head. He's like the sculptor who knows what stone to chip away to reveal the figure he sees hidden in the stone. He's like the artist who knows where every line is supposed to go on the drawing he's about to do before the ink goes down.

So far he seems to us like a rockstar old-school hardcore VW mechanic, which is what we need so much right now.

As you can see, Fix-Um Haus has a lot of people depending on it. There was the sweetest blue '74 Type I Cabriolet there ... it's a very nice shop. Everything inside the bays is tight and tidy. It looks like we found a true winner here.

So we commend our beloved VW and (soon) a good deal of money (part of it crowdfunded) into the hands of a pro who we're expecting will Get The Job Done.

Stay tuned and we'll update. 

[liff] How Much Ash Fell In Portland Last Night? Olivia Will Tell Us

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It's the most interesting-in-the-wrong-way weather I've ever seen, even less compelling than the surfiet of water and snow we had last winter here in Portland.

The historic fire in the Columbia Gorge, about 40 miles east of Portland, called the Eagle Creek Fire, has cast a pall over the environment where you understand the meaning of the word sepulchre, the gut-feel version of the word.

I work a third-shift job. And since I was inside most of the day and asleep the better part of it, I didn't see the ash from the fire that was supposed to be filtering down from the sky. I saw a few motes on my way into work, but not much of the ash fall. Then, in the daylight, I got out to the car to come home.

Ladies and gents', allow me to re-acquaint you with Olivia the VW:

Now, it's true that she does need a bit of a bath. Given the prevailing conditions, I think it would be prudent not to move forward with those plans until such a time as there's no crap falling out of the sky.

The need for a wash so stipulated, there's a coating of gray flakes which should be somewhat visible on the hull. Along the margins of the bonnet, in the places where there's the depression, there's a thicker margin of gray. This is a buildup of ash from a fire 40 miles away.

A closeup of the right front wheel cowling should bring it all home:

The grey and black speckles there, on the left side, are easily blown off with a huff of air from the lungs. I just blew on it and it flew off, as is obvious in the picture on the right.

Back in 2015 we were mired in smoke from a distant fire, way east of the Cascades which was forced down the gorge into town. This is much closer. And much worse. And I'm thankful I have no respiratory problems because that's hell right now for some people I know.

[WyEast] The Great Mount Hood Car Lockout

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Did you know that you can get back in to a 1972 VW Beetle with a lockpick?

That's the kind of thing someone says to one that the interlocutor typically responds to one with a request for the story pertaining to that remark. Yes, there's a story attached.

Before the stark realization.

Olivia and myself, see, were one SE 122nd in front of the old Rossi place, as is our wont when the sunrise looks like the above and I know it's going to be cloudy and dark the next several mornings. And I pull over to the side, get out and run across the big boulevard slab of 122nd, I'm not thinking about where I'm putting my car keys.

I mean, I've been driving enough years.  Almost every other driver I know can relate to that, I think.

I'm not even thinking about it yet, when I'm playing with settings on the camera and noticing that I enjoy using the Canon's "Vivid Color" setting for scenes like this. The above is what it looks like with the filter in. The below is what it looks like with auto settings.

In both, the there are two really entrancing things; the lattice-work of the cloud patterns in the upper sky, and the low deck hovering in front of Larch Mountain there on the left. Really imposes a sense of scale and wonder.

Not quite as much wonder as the wonder I'm now feeling when involuntarily patting my right front pants pocket to verify the presence of my keys as is, again, my wont. Hmm. Not there. Not to worry, they made it into the left front pocket. I do this sometimes.

The cloud cover is beautiful, but not quite the wonder it would be if it were clear, that'd be prit-near an iconic representation of the sun breaking over the side of the mountain. If you strain the eyes, you can see the mantle of recently-acquired snow.

And there's still a sense of wonder with they keys, because they aren't in the left front pants pocket, not neither, the wonder being oh, my, I couldn't have, could I? Well, I'll look in my jacket pockets. That's usually where they are when they are where I should have put them.

I don't have the keys to this wonder in more ways than one.

Well, I wondered on more than one level that day.

I got a shot that I could reframe and crop to the wonderful thing above and stalked up and down the east side of 122nd for a few more minutes. I knew exactly where this was going, but could live in the glow of having created a little bit of photographic art here for a few minutes. And when I got back to Olivia, that beautiful yellow VW, I looked on the passengers' seat … and there was every key I had, safely locked away inside the car.

The key ring … a large, jailer's-style I've owned since about 1985 (it's a keyring that's easy to find) was there, just tucked under one corner of my bag. And, to provide subtlety to the jest, the spare keys … which I have in case I, for large example, accidentally close the door with the keys in the ignition having, ideally, left the car with my ever-present bag slung over my shoulder … gleamed at me in the morning light from the small mesh zip-up pocket in which I keep them.

You have an evil sense of humor, Reality.

Olivia was cool. She, as The Dude, can certainly abide.

And I was on the phone to The Wife™. She came perforce, but whereas she usually has a spare set of keys (her keyring is legendary, and has started many impromptu conversations as well as a friendship or two), they had been accidentally dropped at the Fabric Depot over at 122nd and Stark. They had been recovered. But she hadn't yet been to retrieve them. And it was about 8 AM. And Fabric Depot didn't open until 9 AM.

A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse. Never doubt the providence of chains of causality.

We, fortunately, still have roadside assistance left on our AAA Plus membership so we called and Tim Scott, a very patient and avuncular fellow with AA Express Locksmiths, came and restored Olivia access with a reasonable quickness, and therein the lock pick. One lever on a side of the cylinder, one small whatever-the-locksmith-technical-term-for-it-is with a little curved end feeling around inside the lock itself, and we were open and in in very short order. And watching him, I felt like I was in some heist movie or an epside of Mission:Impossible for a few minutes.

Between the call and the locksmith, my spouse and myself shared some contemplative time together. As she's been doing social stuff on line and I've been busy with a volunteer layout project we haven't had much no-device time together. It was good. It was why we got married after all.

I was home about two hours after I'd though I'd be.

A bit of inconvenience.

And so it goes.

[Out122ndWay] Olivia And Sam At Rossi, When The Sun Came Up.

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Today wasn't so much for specifically getting a good Wy'East photo, but more about capturing the sunrise, as we actually were able to do.

The view from Olivia:

Reach out for the sunrise, as Simon LeBon once sang.

Mt. Hood, Wy'East, almost as preserved in amber.

How we do sunrises out 122nd way.

[VW] Olivia Visits Rossi Farms

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Well, it's not the first time she's rolled by, but it is the first time she's paused to let me take some pictures.

This, in case I've not formally introduced you all, is Olivia. It is part of the VW Beetle Owners' Code to dub your 'Dub with a nickname; they don't take away your VW lover's card if you don't, but they all look at you like Dude, don't you know how to have fun with this thing? Is, like, an intervention in order?

So, I thought a while. I loved the fact that this was our little yellow Vee Dub. And, rising out of that little collection of syllables came a tone poem: Our LIttle Yellow Vee DubYA.

Phonetically, that's OLYVYA, but I prefer the classic spelling of Olivia. I also think it's a very pretty name, and wholly appropriate to a cutie-pie, sunny yellow 1972 VW Beetle that just makes me smile whenever I look at her.

Olivia you shall be until your wheels come off, my lovely little happy car.

But, to cases: today, to get the pictures in the previous posting, we stopped in the usual place we stop to take such pictures: the west side of NE 122nd Avenue, just south of the intersection with NE Skidmore Street, in front of Rossi Farms, one of the last (if not the last) working farm east of 82nd Avenue, an area that used to be nothing but small farms, from Portland all the way out to Gresham and around.

Today, the area between the two city centers is carpeted with tract homes and serpentine suburban streets laid out bit by bit between the 1950s and the 1980s, but it was once a farm-dotted prairie. And Rossi Farms still grows flowers and produce … I well remember the colorful lines of kale and the stalks of corn waiting to be harvested then the remains plowed under.

The fall colors are vibrant in a patch where flowers are being grown along Skidmore Street, a literal stone's throw from Parkrose High School. The sunflowers were even trained to the east, eagle-eyeing the rising sun!

Meanwhile, Olivia waited patiently for me to cease the silliness, get back into traffic, and sing along with the tunes on my commuting CD until I got home.

Life's developed some interesting-in-the-wrong-way factors over the last few months, but as long as I have Olivia, I'll be okay for at least a little while in the day. Even if you're running late, it's impossible to feel sad when you're driving a car like this.

I have extensive experience with dysthymia. Believe me, if anyone should know of the anti-depressant powers of the classic VW Beetle, it's me.

And so it (and she) goes.