A PORTLAND QUEEN IN KING CITY

This morning found me looking at my back tire the way this guy’s feeling about his tire.

I was probably more surprised since I wasn’t out four wheelin’, just a car sitting in the driveway.

Right away my plans changed from finishing a blog post and moving on, to finishing a blog post and limping down to Les Schwab.

That’s where I met a Portland Queen in King City.

It started with a warning to my wife.

 

Me: Don’t drive past the house getting new siding.

Wife: Or I might catch a nail and get a flat tire? I know. You too.

 

Me to the tire guy: Did my flat tire come from a roofing or siding nail?

TG: That’s exactly what it was, a small, unused, nail.

Me: I warned my wife about that house.

TG: We see it every day. You make a fair warning, and you get the flat.

Me: I don’t get it.

TG: That how life works.

While I waited I saw an old lady come in with a relaxed, strong, stride wearing jeans and a windbreaker.

After my tire was fixed for no cost, thank you Les Schwab, I told the lady on my way out the door, “I haven’t been here too long a wait.”

“Well be careful leaving,” she said. “With King City on one side and Summer Field on the other it’s a crap shoot just making it to the light without a crash.”

Those are two 55 And Over communities straddling Pacific Hwy.

“I’ve been hit by an old man rolling backward when a light turned green, and another old man pulling out of the Safeway parking lot,” I said.

“At least in King City it’s flat with low trees and you can see them coming. Summer Field is dark from big trees.”

My new friend knew the area as well as I did, and so much more.

 

Kenton Neighborhood, North Portland 

Me: I’ve got a theory that we are the results of where we grew up. Where are you from?

Lady: I grew up in North Portland where we grew up free and could go anywhere we liked. Our mother threw us out of the house in the morning and that was that.

Me: My mom locked us out a few times.

Lady: You can’t do that now, besides everyone is too frightened to let their kids out of their sight.

Me: My kids are in their thirties and the only reason I feel comfortable is they know how to wrestle. Have you heard of Peninsula Park.

Lady: Give me a break. Of course I know Peninsula Park.

Me: They have a guy there, Roy Pittman, who’s been making wrestlers for decades. My guys didn’t make it out there, but they knew it was the standard.

Lady: We were free to go everywhere from Peninsula Park to Jantzen Beach. You could walk across the bridge to Washington and back.

 

Why Portland Queen?

There’s a generation of people in the suburbs who remember the joy of city living, of walking around the block, walking across town, and feeling like it was normal, not because they were poor and didn’t have a car.

They remember meeting and talking to strangers who became acquaintances then became friends.

Now they’re stuck in the empty suburban wastelands devoid of people who stay locked behind doors and gates, locked onto their laptops, screens, and phones scheduling yard crews and handyman men to keep up with HOA requirements.

Me: Where did you go to high school.

Lady: Jefferson. It was the best in the city.

Me: In the state. Terry Baker and Mel Renfro went to Jefferson.

Lady: Not just Mel. It was the Renfro brothers.

We talked almost another hour after my tire was fixed.

She made my day.

 

 

PS:

I like to think of these wonderful exchanges whenever I see people waiting for their lives to continue.

PSS:

Instead of grumbling about the bad luck of a flat tire, I left with all the wind my sails could hold.

And keeping an eye out for bad drivers.