Don't know if I ever told you the story of my being "south of Vegas" in 1996?
I worked at Hart Mountain Refuge on my first of several sage grouse projects for OSU, from mid-March till July, lonely and bored young man that I was, I often went to Lakeview for the weekends to socialize. I will add that I had Grandpa's old green perfectly cherry 1971 1972 Chevy Pickup, Camper Special and it cost no less than $90 to go to town and back at about 7 or 8 MPG on a volunteer's wage of $15/day 5 days a week, a loosing proposition if there ever was one... One of the few local haunts was called the Indian Village, generally a pretty good time on the weekends filled with a mix of society and that offered at least the glimmer of a chance to get a little. The Village, it was painted a pastel kinda sunset light orange color that would glow nearly as much as me in the late June evening light. Well, there'd been some big hurricane down in the SE states, the year or two previous I think it was, and the Federal Government had bunches of these surplus NEMA travel trailers parked in Fort Worth, Texas that the GSA was dulling out to the various agencies. Our Refuge manager acquired three of them to use for bunk houses, so the crew set about driving down in three pickups to pull them back and I begged myself along for the adventure, never having been to such destinations... First day we blasted down through all of Nevada and stopped for the night in Boulder City, just "south of Vegas". Me being me, and 27 years young, I celebrated with the three respectable good ol' boys then headed out on the small town ending up at a rather festive place with booze, music and dancing as I recall. My favorite kinda place during the 90's. Next thing I know, this well-armed Officer of the Law is questioning me. He asks, "do you know where you are". I looked up from the sidewalk, peered around and saw this pastel colored building glowing in the pinkish orange light and eluded to the officer that I did indeed know my whereabouts! 'Lakeview, Oregon,' I pronounced with certainty. Well, he 'plained to me that I was quite mistaken, that I was witnessing the glow of the sun rising to the east, and I was in fact in Boulder City, gem of the fine State of Nevada, where sidewalk snoozing is frowned upon, and not such a good idea because of the preponderance of rascals at that hour of the day. The Lawman drove me back to the Hotel where my co-workers were just recently up, well rested and ready to hit the road. My Government standing was quickly, yet a tad bit reluctantly, verified, and away the Officer went. Next stop SanteFe', then Amarillo, onto DFW and back to Hart Mountain, a grand six day round trip. BTW, coming into Amarillo, we never did hear THE song play, which was rather disappointing to all, and the very beginnings of my disappoints associated with the Lone Star State. Thinking back on being "south of Vegas" makes me gracious to be in the present and should clarify where my handle stems from. (-:
Last edited by oregontripper; 10/14/14.
