Independence Day in the Great Northwest

You can't escape the people, so you may as well join them. Five hours of preparation, including a trip to the Walmart, finally led us to the Sandy River where we floated, tied to the cooler. Sometimes, the water was deep enough to let our legs down and kick through cold blue green, other times we walked through sand or held up our arses so as not to ground on the rocks. It got colder and our group sadly dwindled, but Miss V. and I made it to the Troutdale Bridge and back to Portland for the tale end of a barbeque. She held her fist high yelling “freedom” as our posse of bikes (led by a three year old in a bike trailer) barreled down the street. “Freedom lovers, to the left!” one commanded, and we veered, arriving just in time to watch the Fireworks burst over the Willamette. The night ended in The Reel 'em Inn with a 28 year old kid named Cisco harassing me about bittorrent and asking me if I wanted to do some virtual trading of old Jerry Garcia Band shows. I had to wonder if he is indicative of the people I will be living with here in my new town.