Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Is there a burning tire fire near here?... No, it's my new truck

As I mentioned previously, I have recently come into the quasi-ownership of a 1972 Ford 250 Truck. This is going to be my mode of transportation for my time here in Oregon. Assuming she makes it that long. Right now I'm just hoping she'll make it to the end of the week.

Today, my boss Jerry informed me that I will be driving the newly insured tank, er, truck, from now on. The new truck is full of surprises. For example, I found out very quickly that she does not have power steering. This is quite unfortunate news because it makes parking almost IMPOSSIBLE. Also, I discovered that she gets 9 miles to the gallon. Nine. Miles. To. The. Gallon. But at least gas is super cheap in Oregon, only 1.96 a gallon. Where is it where you are... Lastly, I discovered while driving, that she has a real problem shifting into third gear. Actually, it has a problem shifting into ANY gear, but especially third gear.

I left the farm today around 5 with the gas tank bordering on empty. And, to make matters worse, the gas that was in the tank was about 2 years old. So, I headed directly for the gas station which is about 10 miles away. Let me tell you, when this baby's near empty, she purs like a kitten. Also, did you know that when one burns old gas it smells like a dying sun. Vapors and smells emitted from the suffering grandmother of a truck the likes of which probably lowered my life expectancy significantly. I was saying Hail Marys the whole way there, hoping beyond all reason that this thing would not explode in a fiery inferno or worse - run out of gas in town.

I limped into the gas station. Did you know that in Oregon it is illegal to pump your own gas....illegal. Cursed state supreme court. So, the kind Mexican fellow I know at the gas station came over to pump some gas. "Aye Amigo, como aslkasdfluiafd;(incoherent Spanish)askfj que malo!"

"Just fill'er up with premium my good man. Nothing but the best for this vehicle." He also made sure to make fun of the jerky motion of the car when I switched gears.

So, this will be my mode of transportation for the next several weeks. Your prayers will be more than welcome.

Cheers.

p.s. I am thinking up names for my sweet new ride. In consideration are: Buelah, The Belafonte, and Green Thunder.

p.p.s. Gas is not that cheap, that was a joke...

Saturday, August 23, 2008

The only ground I ever owned was sticking to my shoes

Maybe I should start from the beginning. My first full week at the winery is over. Harvest has not started yet, and probably won't start until September first when the grapes come in. So, I have spent most of my time doing all the work no one else wants to do. I have cleaned drains, cleaned old wine barrels and cleaned bungs for the bungholes (by the way, I am having a really hard time not laughing every time someone says the word "bunghole"). Also, I have climbed into a 10,000 gallon stainless steel tank to clean it for wine. Lastly, I took apart and reassembled three very expensive and very complicated water well filtration tanks. It's a good thing I'm my father's son or I never would have been able to do something that technical or that mechanical.

Stephen, my housemate, and I went to dinner with the O'Reilly family. The O'Reillys are the other family who own the winery. They have 8 children and are just as hospitable and kind as the Owens. Their eldest son was leaving for college and they were having a send off dinner. We had steaks as big as your head, potatoes and tomatoes grown from their garden, as well as some wonderful wine. We had Orien pinot, some Murphy's Law red, and also Dubrul Cabernet. We also had some Owen Roe dessert wine from 2001. After dinner with the family we all sat down and Dom played his fiddle as we all sang "The Parting Glass." The walls are decorated with icons of our Blessed Mother as well as several saints. Mr. Oreilly is from Ireland, as is evident when he says the word "Ire-lund". So the singing was plentiful and much like an old town pub. I felt close to home, or at least closer than I have lately.

Lastly, and most excitingly I have obtained a vehicle. Jerry told me that if I could get the old truck in the barn running, then I could drive it around while I'm in Oregon. Able, the Mexican farm worker of the Owens and I knocked off the cobwebs, put in some gas and a new battery, moved all the old crap off of the vehicle and turned the key. What resulted was a resounding roar of pure beauty. She is a 1971 Ford 250 truck, green and rust colored. She's made of 100 percent steel (and magic) and to top it all off, has a gun rack in the rear window. To prevent tailgating. I said in incorrect Spanish to Able, "This is the most beautiful car in the world." He looked perplexed and laughed. I'm pretty happy because previously I was driving around a van from the 80's that had 211,000 miles on it. The van also had a "check engine" light that would blink on and off like a Christmas tree. But, my hope is restored and as soon as I get insurance and stickers, The Green Machine and I will be off at the speed of smell.

Hope you all are well. If you think I miss you, I probaly do.

Check out www.owenroe.com for more on the winery.

quote of the day:

Kentucky you are the dearest land outside of Heaven to me
Kentucky your laurels and your red bud trees
When I die I want to rest upon your graceful mountain so high
Kentucky that is where God will look for me

Saturday, August 16, 2008

The Grapes of Wrath

The great winery adventure has begun.

My flight in to Portland arrived 3 hours late, around midnight. I have to admit, not having a car is a real pain in our country, and relying on my housemate Stephen is rough. But, Stephen, God Bless him, was there to pick me up and take me to our humble abode in the rolling hills and vineyards of Oregon. The road to our house is much like Rt. 421 for all of my Kentucky readers. Very windy and dangerous. We have a spectacular view of Mt. hood out our back door. Lush, ripened grape vines line the roadsides with white fences and the rolling hills run all the way to Mt. hood, with it's pronounced, snowy peak.

The house itself is ... rustic. there is no air or central heat. The heat is controlled by a giant wood furnace in the basement. The air is controlled by the Lord. The structure of the house is sound, but it is most assuredly a guy's house. Seat up.

The winery has been an adventure thus far. Stephen drove me to work on the first day and we were the first to arrive. We entered the main building and immediately I was taken in by the vastness, the history and the beauty of the craft. Aged oak barrels filled the cool warehouse and the sweet scents of the wine filled the room. One of the great perks of the winery is that we get lunch and sometimes dinner provided for us during harvest. They keep two professional chefs on staff whose only job is to cook for us. So far, we have had seared salmon, pasta, cucumber soup, smoked pork sandwiches, and all the Owen Roe Wine one can drink.

My boss, Jerry, is a saintly man. He and his wife have 8 daughters and one son, the youngest, and they are a spectacular example of God's love and how to have a loving Catholic family. On my first day, Jerry took me up to Portland, about a 45 minute drive, to install some shelves at the Catholic school he and his family helped start. Apparently, my carpentry skills have been vastly over-estimated. But, I think I did a pretty good job ... they seemed sturdy. We didn't get back to the winery until around 6 so Jerry invited me in for dinner with his family. It was truly astounding and touching for me really. Here I was, more or less a stranger, and Jerry invited me in for a dinner of home-raised chicken, mashed potatoes and home made gravy, home made biscuits and home made jam as well as Owen Roe wine (very high end) and home made pie. His family is delightful as well. The older ones take care of the younger ones and everyone is polite and gracious to the utmost. It was moving, and full of Blessings.

After dinner, Jerry gave me a ride home to the 100 degree shack and I called it a first day. I was exhausted, having only gotten 4 hours of sleep the night before. I went straight to bed.

Cheers ya'll.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

I'm stuck in this city but I belong in a field

Today begins the next leg of my journey to Oregon. I have discovered that my housing will be without internet and so my posts will be less frequent. But take heart reader! There will be much hilarity and foolishness to come.

I fly from Midway to Portland this evening.
I start work on Thursday.

When I asked my future house mate (we have never met) about work hours, he said, "well, we usually work 12-14 hours a day. And, sometimes we get Sunday's off."