A slight hiccup

I travel from Post falls in the Idaho panhandle all the way down to Baker City Oregon. Baker City was where “Paint your wagon” was filmed. Ray, an older bloke sidles up to me. Ray was a Screaming Eagle (101st Airborne Division of the Army) during the Vietnam War and has the shrapnel scars to prove it. He was involved in raids into North Vietnam and Laos. Me, “You weren’t supposed to be in Laos were you”. Him, “Not really”. Ray tells me a bit of the history of Baker City. “Baker City was built on lumber, mining and brothels”. Ray points out a number of properties that were previously brothels. This is not a big place with a population of 9,000. But this was a recurring theme throughout the west. Not enough women.

 

The grandest building in town was previously a brothel

TIFU: So I’ve played Idaho. Another one done. Oregon next. I decide to play in Baker City and to stay in Ontario, Oregon that night. Genius Donnelly. You are ahead of schedule and everything going like clockwork. Pull up, ready to play another Tom Watson metronome round.

No clubs! No clubs? I don’t understand! I remember zipping them up. Well, they are not here. I know I didn’t take them out at the hotel. Oh fuck. OH FUCK. I ring the course in Post Falls. “Yes Mr. Donnelly, no problems, we have got them. Chuck ran after you as you left the car park to tell you your clubs where still in the cart”. Well that’s good and least I know where they are. Bad part, Post Falls is 317 miles away and then back to Ontario. This is 1134 kms. More than driving from Melbourne to Newcastle. Alright, let’s weigh this up. It is 12:40 pm. So with straight driving time it is going to be after midnight. Shit! These clubs only cost $600. Option 1 – Buy new clubs. Option 2 retrieve them. Come on – (a) these clubs have done the whole journey. (b) you are an incredible tight arse.  So off I go.

On the way there I try to overtake a truck. Sign saying left lane ends. OK hit the juice. Where the fuck is the front of this truck? Not getting there! Not getting there! He is not going to let me in. Anchors!  ANCHORS! I manage to pull up before running into the guard rail. Dropping in behind him I see the “long load” sign. He didn’t really give a shit. I get around him. I die in a fiery ball. He still gets paid.

I get the clubs and top up juice. Back we go. This is not Australian driving. You are driving up and down steep gradients and through mountains and road works. The whole time I’m thinking a beer and a hot dog. I know this Best Western has a bar that doesn’t stop until 12.30 am. So if I put 8 miles over on the cruise control that means that I’ll make it with 50 minutes to spare despite the road works. I obsess about this ETA the whole way. Eventually I get there.  “Mr Donnelly we were expecting you”. “That’s good, I believe you have a bar”. “ Yes sir”. “ Where is it” “.  ”Umm it shut at 12:30”. “But it is only 11:40”. “Ohh I’m sorry sir we operate on Mountain time”. “Mr Donnelly why are you gnawing on your calf?”

• Some touristy stuff
• But Crooked nose Jack, you don’t have a brother!
• The best little whorehouse in South Dakota