Sept 10 2024 - Rockford Night
Sep. 22nd, 2024 06:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eerietomEarlier this year, I walked through part of the northwest industrial area of Portland (the area around the Montgomery Park building) and intended to go back and check it out at night (while stoned, which I wasn’t the first time), and that day finally came. I mapped out my course: starting at the Montgomery Park building, I would head north via Wardway, then west on Nicolai Street/St. Helens Road, east on Industrial Street, then south on 26th Avenue back to Vaughn Street. I took my tincture and had a late dinner, so it would be past civil twilight when I began my walk.
I reached Montgomery Park, but was disappointed that the big sign wasn’t illuminated. I guessed the lights of the letters had simply burned out over the years and never were replaced—a common phenomenon these days, unfortunately. I still intended to take a few pictures. I got out my phone, lined up the shot, and just as my finger was only a half inch away from tapping the screen—and I swear I’m not making this up—the lights came on! How was that for magical timing?
Click image for larger view; opens in new window.
The first part of Wardway and Nicolai St/St. Helens Rd reminded me of Japan: quiet, clean, a few buildings lit by streetlamps, some park-like areas. But after 30th or so, there was a change: it became a little grungier: older buildings, signs with “classic” fonts and logos, a bar with honky-tonk music coming out of it. I started feeling a bit like Jim Rockford, sleuthing on a case somewhere in industrial Los Angeles. Explanation: I had begun watching The Rockford Files for the first time a few months ago after seeing James Garner in an episode of Maverick, and found Rockford to be an engaging character and role model: an assertive guy who would prefer not to fight, but can take care of himself when the need arises.
Since moving into my new digs back in February, I haven’t had the chance to have my monthly cigar. No smoking permitted in the apartment, of course, but also not on the balconies. One had to go down to street level. However, for me, a cigar is something to be enjoyed and savored, something for relaxing, and standing on a sidewalk while pedestrians and cars go by (especially with the combination of a busy intersection and construction since before I moved here) is anything but relaxing. I figured I could have a smoke without anyone hassling me while going through the industrial area at night—and I brought a portable ashtray along, too. Alas, it was a particularly windy night, and it was difficult just lighting my cigar, much less keeping it lit.
After turning east on Industrial St, I reached an area near some railroad tracks (about 500 feet east of St. Helens Rd). I could hear a dog barking from behind a building. It finally appeared, unleashed. I guessed the owner would soon appear as well, but one never did. I wasn’t sure of the breed, but it resembled a bull terrier. The dog stopped in the middle of the street and began barking and growling at me. I was smart enough to not just turn and run, so I stopped and kept an eye on it. It neither approached nor retreated, but it kept barking. Since I wasn’t sure if it was guarding one of the buildings (it seemed odd a watchdog would be running loose) or just a stray (and possibly rabid), I decided the best thing to do would be to go back the way I came instead of trying to go around it. Again, I didn’t just immediately turn and start walking. And I was still trying to light my damned cigar! It was at that point I felt my most Rockford-ish and wished I had been wearing a sports jacket and that someone had been there to snap a picture of me: late at night, looking like Rockford, facing down a possibly dangerous dog, but standing my ground while trying to light my cigar. Was that the epitomy of cool or what?
So see? I do know when to be careful while stoned!
Failing utterly in my attempt to light my cigar, I gave up and took a few steps backwards—the dog didn’t advance. I took a few more steps, then turned slightly to walk sideways (still watching the dog), then finally began walking forward, heading west back to St. Helens Rd. I took a few glances over my shoulder, but the dog didn’t advance, although he was still barking at me. After walking about 50 feet, I suddenly heard a man shouting: You son of a bitch! Get your motherfucking ass in here! You goddamn fucking dog! No idea from where the voice was coming, but obviously the dog wasn’t a stray. I looked: the dog hadn’t moved, and the man was still screaming. And he was still screaming after I had walked another couple hundred feet!
I wished I had at least thought to take a picture of the dog!
Maybe I should’ve stopped at the honky-tonk for a whiskey to celebrate my Rockford-ness!
I reached Montgomery Park, but was disappointed that the big sign wasn’t illuminated. I guessed the lights of the letters had simply burned out over the years and never were replaced—a common phenomenon these days, unfortunately. I still intended to take a few pictures. I got out my phone, lined up the shot, and just as my finger was only a half inch away from tapping the screen—and I swear I’m not making this up—the lights came on! How was that for magical timing?
Click image for larger view; opens in new window.
The first part of Wardway and Nicolai St/St. Helens Rd reminded me of Japan: quiet, clean, a few buildings lit by streetlamps, some park-like areas. But after 30th or so, there was a change: it became a little grungier: older buildings, signs with “classic” fonts and logos, a bar with honky-tonk music coming out of it. I started feeling a bit like Jim Rockford, sleuthing on a case somewhere in industrial Los Angeles. Explanation: I had begun watching The Rockford Files for the first time a few months ago after seeing James Garner in an episode of Maverick, and found Rockford to be an engaging character and role model: an assertive guy who would prefer not to fight, but can take care of himself when the need arises.
Since moving into my new digs back in February, I haven’t had the chance to have my monthly cigar. No smoking permitted in the apartment, of course, but also not on the balconies. One had to go down to street level. However, for me, a cigar is something to be enjoyed and savored, something for relaxing, and standing on a sidewalk while pedestrians and cars go by (especially with the combination of a busy intersection and construction since before I moved here) is anything but relaxing. I figured I could have a smoke without anyone hassling me while going through the industrial area at night—and I brought a portable ashtray along, too. Alas, it was a particularly windy night, and it was difficult just lighting my cigar, much less keeping it lit.
After turning east on Industrial St, I reached an area near some railroad tracks (about 500 feet east of St. Helens Rd). I could hear a dog barking from behind a building. It finally appeared, unleashed. I guessed the owner would soon appear as well, but one never did. I wasn’t sure of the breed, but it resembled a bull terrier. The dog stopped in the middle of the street and began barking and growling at me. I was smart enough to not just turn and run, so I stopped and kept an eye on it. It neither approached nor retreated, but it kept barking. Since I wasn’t sure if it was guarding one of the buildings (it seemed odd a watchdog would be running loose) or just a stray (and possibly rabid), I decided the best thing to do would be to go back the way I came instead of trying to go around it. Again, I didn’t just immediately turn and start walking. And I was still trying to light my damned cigar! It was at that point I felt my most Rockford-ish and wished I had been wearing a sports jacket and that someone had been there to snap a picture of me: late at night, looking like Rockford, facing down a possibly dangerous dog, but standing my ground while trying to light my cigar. Was that the epitomy of cool or what?
So see? I do know when to be careful while stoned!
Failing utterly in my attempt to light my cigar, I gave up and took a few steps backwards—the dog didn’t advance. I took a few more steps, then turned slightly to walk sideways (still watching the dog), then finally began walking forward, heading west back to St. Helens Rd. I took a few glances over my shoulder, but the dog didn’t advance, although he was still barking at me. After walking about 50 feet, I suddenly heard a man shouting: You son of a bitch! Get your motherfucking ass in here! You goddamn fucking dog! No idea from where the voice was coming, but obviously the dog wasn’t a stray. I looked: the dog hadn’t moved, and the man was still screaming. And he was still screaming after I had walked another couple hundred feet!
I wished I had at least thought to take a picture of the dog!
Maybe I should’ve stopped at the honky-tonk for a whiskey to celebrate my Rockford-ness!
