Its easy to take for granted the beauty and awesomeness of the outdoors. All day is spent outside getting waterlogged and sunfucked. Riley is free to roam wherever he chooses. Usually he’s within site but if he’s not its no big deal. A quick whistle and he pops his head up somewhere. There’s no such thing as boredom, plenty can be done. Nights are spent watching the fire crack, the mind begins to tire. Off to bed. Repeat.

I pointed to Hood River with the sole intention of getting shit done. Timelines need to be kept. There’s a finished product to deliver. Upon arriving to the Hood I’ve had this built up creative energy that I wanted to unload on projects. So I was looking for a solid 4-6 hour block of time each day to focus.

Figuring out what to do with Riley for a 4-6 window has been incredibly challenging. Leave him in the car? At most I can leave him in the car with the windows down under a giant shady tree for maybe 1 1/2 hours. He’s in my head the entire time. “I should go back to check on him and the thermometer.” I’ve yet to get anything past a solid 3 hour window during the day.

Then there’s the camping accommodations at Hood River. They suck. We’ve been street side for 3 weeks, pretty much at the skate park the entire time. Between the shit weather, sharing closed quarters with Riley, and peeing in milk jugs I’ve been cranky. Real cranky. This morning I woke up to the rank smell of 9 hour old McDonalds and dog farts in a van that was sealed off from the rain. I could rant on and on about the last 3 weeks but I won’t. We’re busting out of here today.

I’ve been reading this book written by a guy whose blog I’ve been following since 2010. I had no clue McDonalds had WiFi! At 15 my mom said that if I went out and got a job she would help me get a car at 16. I hate rejection. So the first place I went to, which happened to be my first employer,  McDonalds. I thought the whole reason for all that plastic seating was to turn tables over and to get people the hell out of there.

This week I began my mornings over at the arches observing the morning crowd, drinking coffee, and checking up on news and blogs. It felt like I was on Mars. Not even Mars. A planet yet to be discovered. I’m in the back corner minding my own. I hear this old man coughing excessively load. Then he starts to clear his throat even loader. I get annoyed fast. Out of the corner of my eye I see him shuffling his feet in my direction. He stops in front of my table. Great.

“Is that an Apple?”

“Yes.” I’m in a short answer kind of mood.

“I didn’t know they made them in black.”

“Its an old apple.”

“I have an apple too.”

“Cool”

“I just came in from Alabama, where are you from?”

“Orange County”

Obviously he’s not detoured by my short answers and continues to small talk me. He’s in town looking for independent living. “Do you know what that is?”

I’m thinking to myself, is this guy fucking with me. He reminds of the kid from Bad Santa.

He answers for me, “Its a step before assisted living.”

I loosen up and we begin to talk. He tells me he’s hanging out for a little, waiting for family and searching for living arrangements. Then he asks if I could help him make the viewing on his Apple easier. “Sure, I can help with that. Bring it in here.”

15 minutes go by. Where the hell did he go. I look up. “What the hell are you doing man?! Shit, let me help you with that.” He leaves everything to fetch his mouse and keyboard.

Turns out, talking to this old man made my entire month. I’m doing the poopy dance and I need my private bathroom over by the marina. He knows I’m trying to make an exit. I go back to the van to fetch one of my travel cards. “Please stay in touch”, I ask. This is my email. I’d love it if you kept in touch. And here’s my blog to. I’d love it if you followed.

I shake his hand. He shakes mine. He smiles and tells me, “Be happy.”