Well, we took care of both things. Understandably, Seven wasn't happy about it. But the way I see it, we who are pushing the envelope and riding the edge can afford to bend a little here and there to keep art rolling. Because if you fight with the law, especially when they're being as reasonable (or petty, depending on your definition) as was Officer G.S., you can plan on getting nowhere fast. You can't out-bully a bully with a badge. The trick is to outsmart him. Change a detail, allow him to maintain his illusion of power and Voila! You're safe and free and still in motion, the latter an important ingredient in any outlaw life.

Hell, once I'd finished taking paint thinner and a rag to Seven's license plate, Officer G.S. was up and out of his car returning Seven's ID to him and strolling over to admire The Duke. He was familiar with car art from TV, a blessing for which there is no one more worthy of thanks than Harrod Blank. God Bless you Harrod, you Foster Farms clucking nutball photographer and art car pioneer you. Without the trail you have wisely blazed through the living rooms and kitchens of TV America, we car artists all would be F you see K'd. But now we are known. I gave Mr. Cop a postcard, and he even offered up that he would give a donation if only he had a buck. Observant.

Now Tex is getting all aggro on me for bitching about his banter over the CB with Seven. I can't concentrate for shit with him exclaiming over every inner tube rapid rider on the river and eagles perched in trees and truckers tailing us and on and on. He's over it quickly, more quickly than me I guess since it takes me a few minutes to get it down on the computer, but not before threatening to smoke a cigarette if I'm not nice to him. He wants to know that I appreciate him driving, that I appreciate him not smoking, etc. I say as much, but add that if I can't write then the whole point of him driving is lost.

Tex is a helluva guy, really. He's a real workhorse for Seven, from whom he still takes a lot of shit. Now he's gigging on a pulley rig river-crossing system installed between us and some house across the Lochsa River. I know he's just burning to talk about it with Seven over the CB, but he's cool. I need this space to write in, and he's granting it to me.

Seven played in the river today like a little kid, and for good reason. Turns out he hasn't swam in a river in the wilderness like that for over 15 years due to his disability. Well, hooray Seven.

So it was worth the exertion. And maybe, just maybe it was worth one boo-boo I could have done without: dropping my brand new camera. Tex said my face just lost all it's fun when that happened. I had it in its case, the case around my neck, but somehow the case came unzipped and out came the camera, landing on the lens as I ran behind Seven pushing. Upon inspection, it was immediately apparent that it would no longer auto-focus. Maybe I'll only need to buy a new lens, I thought, still expensive but heh. But then I tried to manually focus and found the lens totally locked up. It was after some fumbling that I heard a snap and suddenly, damned if I understand how, the lens started moving again and even, yes, autofocusing. A miracle. We'll just see how the pictures turn out from now on.

Seven o'clock already and we have many miles to go. Seventy miles or so to the Idaho-Washington border, then another 100 to the tiny town of Joseph that I'm hooked on visiting for no other reason than someone I can't even remember told me that I'd like it. I think I had been describing Bisbee to them, and from that they had pulled Joseph from their hat.

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Last update April 1, 2004