When we were younger we went out of our way to be "cold and wet." Anyone can have a good time when they are warm and dry. We were special. We rattled about "cold and wet" pretty much wherever we would go.
I especially liked being "cold and wet" for the weekend out by the Deschutes River.
The Indigenous Indian population around those parts call it the "Deschutes River" which means in Indian, "dark, cold, and wet, and hard to get a campsite, because of the dry fly fisherman and the white water rafters everywhere during the summer months, when all you want to do is find a place to lay down before you fall down."
It's also a little song and dance you can see over at Happy Canyon at the Pendleton Round Up.
We were driving the "Muscrat" at high and dangerous speeds across the desert from Redmond at night, all alone, except for the sound of each others high pitched out cries accompanied by Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings Outlaw tapes stashed in a pasteboard box in the back of the Muscrat next to a weeks supply of 16 ounce cans of Colt 45 Malt Liquor and a bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold. Oh yeah; and blocks of ice that drained right through holes drilled in the floor boards to make it "real nice."
The "Muscrat" is actually a 64 1/2 Blue Ford Mustang that I bought for $300.00 from an old farmer guy I knew who was hurting for money. It was spray painted Metallic Blue from rattle cans bought at the GI Joe's discount store.
It had a 289 Cobra High Pro "K" code high compression 270 horsepower motor in it. Built at a cost of $3300.00 all blueprinted and balanced before being installed into the lightweight shabby body of that notorious automobile.
The body did not have one place anywhere on the car that was not dented and repaired with Bondo, then rattle can spray painted back to acceptable sleeper status. It had 2x6's screw nailed at the bottom of the doors for makeshift running boards. God only knows what it would have looked like otherwise. They were hand painted with a blue house paint that kind of matched. Most of the paint was rubbed off anyway from numerous brush runs across the desert in pursuit of high grade excitement.
The under carriage had another $1100.00 worth of racing suspension traction masters built at High School shop class for an old 1966 Falcon. It had low wide profile tires at the rear and little 15 inch tires on the front with rusty American Mag wheels to kind of pretty it up some. The front end was reverse raked by the installation of 1957 Buick "A" frame springs to set the weight back a little further on to the back wheels for better traction. The out of balance slip stream through the air didn't really matter much because the car would only go 112 miles per hour anyway.
The motor was in front of a standard 3 speed transmission shifted from the column with a 4/11 rear end. The car, up hill or downhill, would only go 112 miles per hour but it would get to top speed really, really fast! You had to hold your cheeks real tight when you were accelerating to keep them from flopping. It would pull your face all out of alignment as well. I'm saying it was a real fast automobile.
One really great thing about it, the damn thing would go nearly 40 miles an hour in reverse. It was fun to gun it up to forty in reverse then slam on the brakes for a moment to send it into a 180 degree spin to forward motion then grab second gear and run it up to about 80 miles an hour or so while plowing through the sage brush. We did it mostly to impress the ladies. Figured it was worth the risk to the paint job.
All this really means is that the car was equipped pretty much the same as if you hooked up a 45 horsepower Mercury outboard motor to a piece of plywood for a run about on Lake Billy Chinook.
Well anyway, my traveling partner and I were cruising back and forth up river from Maupin, down river to Shearers Falls and into the White River valley and even over to Oak Springs on the west side and back looking for a place to camp for the night. The normally dark night was so completely filled with campfires blazing everywhere it was confusing and our minds were somewhat addled from having drank a weeks worth of Malt Liquor on the way over from Portland.
It seemed like there was a campfire every 10 feet for miles in every direction. Finally out from no where there was a breech in the campfire light. A cold, wet, dark, black void of a place where no fires burned and no cars were parked and not a single boulder in sight large enough to dissuade the Muscrat from lurching in there for a landing. It was dark "cold and wet" so we quickly rolled out the side doors of the "Muscrat" to our resting places.
About 6:00AM: that morning I felt a kick to my head; then a second. I peered out to see a Oregon State Trooper patrolman staring down at me. All dressed up with authority over us.
"Hey! Can you read boy?" he shouted at me from about a foot and a half away from my face! "Yeah a little bit." "What do ya need read?" I replied smartly? "Look at that sign in front of that God awful piece of crap car your driving dip shit." I open my eyes wide enough to focus on a brilliantly white painted 4x8 sheet of plywood with huge red letters stating,
BEWARE KNOWN RATTLESNAKE NESTING AREA!
I called out to my traveling pal, by his God given name, and suggested he carefully rise for morning prayers right then and there. Just about where his hip lay there in a wet cotton Coleman sleeping bag between him and the ground was a nice big hole where the rattlers exit when it warms up some. Luckily he like me sleeps "cold and wet."
Yeah! "What do you need read?"----------- An inspiration to me.
Now this story has been told and retold translated from and to many languages and still controversy remains as to it's origins and authenticity.
Rattlers part ll
by our sponsors HOT DOG TRAVELER and GENERAL CHOW
Hot Dog Traveler editorial comment:
Imagine now for a moment the imaginary remote control camera that is always trained on our two heros soaring upwards in the heavens to a point perhaps 1000 feet above this whole entire scene. The headlights dimming now from a used battery going low on power that had been like a beacon shinning directly on the brilliant white sign painted with the inescapable red letters the night before. Our heros laid prostrate on the ground perpendicular to the vehicle forming a cruciform shape of sleeping bags and the Muscat. One on the right and the other to the left, respectively.
Warning to you slithery sinful serpents, rafters, and fishermen of the Deschutes River Recreation Area.
Beware known nesting rattlesnakes!
You have been presided over by a "Cobra High Pro," Gods own drunks and innocent men.
General Chows wisdom from the East (over by Service Creek, Monument and Spray maybe not Antelope certainly)
Always load up the rear end of your conveyance with General Chow for any eventuality.
It may be opened and eaten directly from the can "cold and wet," or warm and dry.
It's up to you!
