The journey to Eugene passed in a haze of Asian tea and misbehaving children. Simone bore the brunt of the jet-lagged conversation, but I was expected at least to uphold my side of the charm offensive, a double act with which we were to become well versed. Luckily Billy was easy company and seemed genuinely happy to help.
BIlly found a turtle on the road and brought it home to the pond to join the other turtle he’d found early in the year. I thought it was a tortoise, but felt ill equipped to argue. Don’t turtle have flippers?
His house was pretty much off-grid, around 15 minutes drive from the town of Eugene. No internet, TV or decent phone coverage. To be fair he’d just moved in, but considering the amount that needed to be achieved (buying a car), I was concerned that this could make things difficult.
Billy had, in my experience, a greater knowledge of fungi than anyone else in the world. I actually have a fairly good knowledge of fungi native to Cumbria, but Billy knew so much I’ve forgotten most of what he told me. He even grew different types in a special sealed room that for some reason you had to be naked to enter (I didn’t go in).
It was on that first night in Billy’s house, when the children were misbehaving and I wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, that I realised I hadn’t actually relaxed for around a week. I was going to bed with my hands open clamped, as if about to shatter a whisky glass for dramatic effect. Things were actually pretty much going to plan but the pressure of all the variables, the half-sureties, the children, they were almost freaking me out. Those coupled with the stuff left to do: the car to buy, the insurance and tax to sort, the luggage to load, the accommodation I’d paid for yet never actually seen? It was all in there.
Eugene is next to Springfield, the town on which the Simpsons is based.
The next 7 days in Eugene were for me, an exercise in how many internal organs I could tense simultaneously before having a seizure. I could now open locked jars with with my clamped claw-hands. Buying a car is stressful at the best of times, and buying in a time window worse. Buying in another country was also complicated but I had done this all before in Houston Texas, in my early twenties. The car I bought then was absolutely shit (it did however get us from Houston to Panama, and whilst it was mainly held together with gaffa-tape I feel it nevertheless deserves a disclaimer).
Buying a car it transpired was a whole other ball-ache. Billy lived out of town, therefore to look at car-lots meant he had to take me in. This added an extra element of pressure, knowing that whatever time was wasted, was wasted for two. (It was in fact wasted for 7, as all and sundry were forced to join us.) 3 car-lots in and I realised the one I had seen on the internet before leaving was probably about as good as it would get. It was still unsold and when we got over to Kendall Toyota, the Nissan (?) I’d spotted was all good.
Some seals came to check us out when we travelled to the largely deserted beach. Mind you, it was a bit blustery.
Car talk – skip this paragraph if necessary. When I was last in Oregon I’d spotted loads of Nissan Xterra’s. They were a bit like a mini-Pathfinder. I assumed by their notoriety they were probably reliable and cheap to repair, and they looked like a Tonka truck which I liked. They also came with a factory fitted roof-rack which I would need to get the bike and snowboards on. I wanted a 4 wheel drive version as Bend can get snowy, but in Eugene it was more temperate and they were all two wheel drive versions. This one had done 150,000 miles, which seemed the norm but was relatively new (2008) for the price limit I had assigned it, so after the usual back and fourth dance, which to be honest I enjoyed having recently experience the British version of this dance, which was essentially ‘pay the price or fuck off’, we agreed to a sale.
Georgie attempted to lure them in unsuccessfully, through the power of song.
Transferring the money to the car dealer: nightmare. Sorting insurance: infuriating. 3 days later we drove off in the car and I was able to focus my stress on other concerns.
One of my overriding memories of that week was of the kids driving me to what felt like, teetering on the brink of breaking. Everyone was jet-lagged, the girls were constantly bickering – I couldn’t relax because we were loud and annoying without relent. I would sit on the porch in the evenings trying to read a book (that’s how desperate it becomes without wifi) but every 3-4 minutes I would have to go in the house to discipline the children, with ever increasing intensity.
Stan didn’t know what the fuck was going on. He’s 4 and this trip has been described to him as a ‘long holiday’ in the belief that these were concepts he could relate to. His lack of routine and general discombobulation were manifesting themselves in appalling and completely unreasonable behaviour. After a day of it, I was tired and pleading with them all to behave (I’d already tried shouting) and I felt a bit like crying. I’d been trying to organise Stan’s bedtime milk and had been switching between the microwave and the fridge to try and achieve the Goldylocks temperature he was insisting on. He returned to the kitchen on the 3rd attempt, screaming blue murder, and insisting that to achieve the temperature he desired, the milk was to be put in the microwave for exactly 2 hours. Luckily, at this moment Simone awoke from her jet-lagged slumber to take over, as I was about to murder him.
Billy ended up helping me barter the car price down, he offered to act as a cashier if the money would not transfer, he even put Simone and I on his insurance to save on costs (independent insurance looked to cost us a small fortune, without which we would not be allowed to take the car) and assured us that once our trip was over, he would endeavour to sell it for us as well. What a fucking star.
Leg what? Libby worked it out as being around 9, and all the luggage went on and the car drove well. Onward to Bend, and our oasis of solitude with a hot-tub. I thought I might start to relax at this point. But I didn’t.