Perfect Drive.

So before I saw Magic Mike, I had a perfect day.  I had a scheduled all-day training for work in McMinnville, so I reserved a Zipcar for the day.  The day before the training, I realized the training was not relevant to my position, but a call to the powers that be confirmed I had to go.  I did secure assurance that I could attend the training until the lunch break and that would be sufficient.  Excellent.

The training itself was okay.  Like I said, it didn't apply to me, but it included an Excel spreadsheet that was pretty amazing. During the copious amounts of work time, I played around with the spreadsheet, got the gist and then occupied myself reading things online.  This was harder than one would think, as the training was at a high school that blocked access to a lot of things.  For instance, I couldn't access my gmail, nor could I read the New York Times.  However, Roger Ebert's website was not blocked and I read a great essay about his wife.  Now, I would argue that maybe I would have benefited from reading the New York Times online, but if the district wants me to spend time reading movie reviews and essays, I will.

We broke early for lunch (yipee!) and off I went in my Zipcar.  Zipcar gives you 180 miles per day and I aimed to drive most of them getting myself back home.  First stop:  Newberg Dairy Queen.  I needed a Blizzard as it was summer and I was out for a drive.  As I ate, I sat in the parking lot and planned my route using my big Oregon map with all the back roads.  After I planned, (it turns out I'm not a huge fan of cookie dough blizzards anymore.  The quality of the ingredients isn't very high.) I noticed the retro Dairy Queen sign, tucked away in the corner of the lot.
 

This is the Dairy Queen sign we all know today and it was right by the road.  I suspect the road was re-jiggered at some point and the new sign was built and the old one just sat there, instead of being removed.
 

Blizzard done, I headed out to Yamhill, via 240.

 

Once I got to 47 and Yamhill, I stayed on 47.

 Pictures taken while driving:
 

Don't worry, I didn't take my eyes off the road, just grabbed and pointed the camera out the window and pressed the button.
 

I next encountered Forest Grove.  I took "Old 47" which took me through town and I had trouble finding "New 47 again"  I burned some miles here, but eventually discovered I had to go travel on Highway 8 for a bit before it hooked up with 47.


More pictures from the car:
 

Finding 47 again, I headed toward Banks, which Matt and I rode on our bikes to from Stub State Park.

 

I followed the Sunset Highway (A.K.A. Highway 26) for a bit before turning off at Buxton.


 

Here the landscape changes as we begin to climb into the hills.
 

There were several places to access the trails at Stub State Park.  I used the bathroom at one of them.
 

And here I was!  Vernonia!  This is the other end of the Banks Vernonia Rail Trail.  I got there by car, not bike, but I finally set eyes on Vernonia.


Outside of Vernonia was some road construction.

Leaving Vernonia, I traveled for a bit longer on 47 before the turnoff to the Scappoose-Vernonia Highway.

An important decision.  Scappoose or St. Helens? I chose Scappoose.  My miles were dwindling.
 

There was much more traffic on this stretch of highway.  I followed this truck for a good number of miles.

Scappoose threw me back on the familiar territory of Highway 30 as I headed toward home.



The familiar spires of the St. John's Bridge.
 

And back along Lombard toward home.


Unpacking the car at home I realized the super awesome "choose your own configuration" cup holder.  Good job, car engineers.

Also, the radio stations were fabulous.  I cycled between six stations and never had to listen to one commercial.  I did get to hear one song twice:  Lou Reed's Walk on the Wild Side.  Also, I discovered that what one radio station is calling "the new classic rock" is what I was listening to in high school.

So thanks Zipcar, for getting me to my important training and thanks again for a delightful drive home.