Throwback Thursday: The Sprague River Adventures of 1982

There comes a time when it's time to make a change in your life. I graduated from college with my Bachelor's degree in Spring of 1982 and had no job prospects beyond continuing to work part-time at Candy's Kwik Shop. Don't get me wrong. I loved working at Candy's Kwik Shop, but I wanted to start working in a full-time capacity doing something else I loved.

I flooded the market with resumes and cover letters. I created different resumes for different positions, depending on what I wanted to focus. I had a few interviews, based on those cover letters, but somehow I just didn't fit the need. During the recession of '82 when the nationwide unemployment rate was 10.8%, the old joke was,

How many Oregonians does it take to change a light bulb? Only one but 500 applied for the job.

With no job in sight, I was offered to tend to a house on the reservation in Sprague River, Oregon. The owner was relative of my neighbors, Bobby and Nellie Barney. I knew I could make a living as a free-lance writer with free rent, so I decided we needed to go visit our possible new home.

Nellie decided to drive.  Her truck had a camper shell, so we put the mattresses and blankets in the back, tossed in our four kids: Chris, Missy, David and Robbie. Nellie was driver and beside her was me and her brother, Dan.  Off we went!

The truck trouble started around Salem.  Salem is about 45 miles south of Portland. We stopped at a station to find out what was going on. Ahhh...the radiator was overheating. Nellie and I looked at one another and decided, "Heck, we've gone this far. Let's keep going! It's only another 235 miles." We found an empty plastic gallon jug and filled it with water, tossed the kids back in the camper and headed back down the highway.

The real adventures didn't begin until we turned off I-5 onto OR-58 (the Willamette Highway) at Goshen. Now we are driving on a two-lane highway that goes directly through the Willamette National Forest.  Dan preferred sitting shotgun, so Nellie and I were cummily together. Now I loved Dan--such a rascal--but he had troubles with the law. If we would see a car coming toward us on the highway, he would duck down in case it was the cops.  Yeah, like they would 1) know he had cop troubles, and 2) could recognize him as we drove past. But it helped his police paranoia and we just laughed. Sometimes he would do it, knowing it wasn't a cop, just to make them think Nellie and I were sitting closely side-by-side, holding hands and laughing.

And then there was the truck. We had used up the spare water long ago and now when we started overheating, we had to figure out some way to find water. There is very little along OR-58 but trees and more trees. But it was fall and the mountains had snow! So, we'd pull over to the shoulder and everyone would hop out. Along the way we had found other containers like cottage cheese containers and a plastic cup. So, we would scoop up the snow and use it in the radiator, jump back into the truck and ride away. Such gorgeous scenery along the highway, passing rivers and lakes, driving through mountain paths. Stopping often to enjoy the scenery as we cooled down and refilled the radiator.

When we arrived in Klamath Falls it was quite late. You know, all those stops :) This is where Nellie's folks lived and we were dropping off Dan. So the next day we took the truck to the garage and had it fixed. Not a big deal; mostly just a hose. We then headed back up to Sprague River. 

Such gorgeous scenery. I have always loved the area around Klamoth Falls and was excited to see the house. My sons, well not so much. We tootled around the reservation, looking at the beautiful mountain views. From the backyard of the house was a building-free view along the valley to the mountains. And the river. So close and delightful, even in fall's nongreenery. 

There were no adventures as we headed home.  Just a drive with few stops. Nellie and I didn't continue to sit cummily in the cab, but still laughed the whole way home. The kids were stuck in the back, so we couldn't hear them complaining or fighting. Life was good :)

When we got home, my sons announced they did not want to move. I understood but I could also (probably romantically) imagine us living rent free, tending to a house, me writing as a free-lance journalist, living in such a historical place. The end result was my children's father sued me for custody, my children were miserable with the courts, and I decided to stay in Portland for their sakes. And the rest is another chapter in our history.

And so it goes
peace~~~