Do Not Pronounce It "Orry-Gawn"

We went on a trip [business related]. A recap, in photos:

Destination: Oregon

Mode of Transportation: The FWhatever50. Naturally.

With a G.P.S. [thank heavens]:


and heated seats...

...which might have been a bit superfluous, since the weather was lovely:


We jammed (jammed?) to this mystery album (any guesses?):


...all the while marveling at the magnificent bridges and tunnels built by the CCC just after the Great Depression. I really appreciate the New Deal. And FDR. Those were the days...

We also marveled at the scrubby trees on the banks of the Columbia River:

Everything was going swell. We picked up trailers at the appointed hour:

And started back on our way (after grabbing a bite to eat):


But then, about midnight, something went terribly wrong. Turns out, our load was four feet over the legal limit in Oregon. And we got in big-time trouble for it:



Not only did PK get a ticket, but we had to leave the trailer at a scale in Washington and go stay in a hotel for the night while we waited for our rescuers (in the form of my in-laws, whom I, like an idiot, forgot to photograph).

It was a most inconvenient detour.

Then the next day we had troubles loading and unloading said offending trailer (which troubles I also failed to photograph because...well...it just wasn't a good time to be taking pictures).

And then we almost didn't make it to the fuel station, which almost didn't have ultra low sulfur diesel, which turns out to be really important stuff.

But everything worked out in...

...The End.