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PLSO Issue 4, 2014 July/August

Th e second Lakeview bird story goes like this: Each day we would drive about 40 miles to the job site. Th e roads were long and straight. We usually had two trucks, Jake driving one and John the other. We were spaced about 10 chains apart and traveling about 50 mph. Th is got some of us into a habit of “nodding off ” during the ride. I was riding shotgun with Jake when all of a sudden John’s truck went sideways and tire smoke was everywhere. We of course stopped to see if everyone was okay. I ran up to the passenger side of the truck and saw all the windows on the side were red! As John’s crew slowly started to get out, I saw most of them were covered in feathers and red goo. Th ey had hit a hen pheasant and it went through the windshield. It exploded and covered everyone but John, the driver. John took his crew back to town. Jake’s crew went on to work. ◆ Th e windmill #6 IT WAS 1962 AND MY SECOND SEASON IN DAYVILLE. In Oregon and Washington, our season usually went from April to late November. Dayville had several churches, a hotel, a gas station, and a tavern. Maybe there were 200 people in and around the valley. Th e local tavern was fairly liberal with us and if we minded ourselves no questions were asked. If you could play cards, you could drink beer. Th e locals always needed fresh money in the 25¢ pot for pinochle. So, one night a man with one arm came in and was selling “white lightning” at $2 a quart jar. Mike and I bought two quarts and as he sized us up he suggested we might drink it with some kind of mixer and preferably on a Friday night, as we might not remember Saturday and would probably need Sunday to get well. He was quite right. Th e fi rst year in Dayville I stayed at the hotel, but the second year we rented a house in the middle of town. Cots and sleeping bags. You can sleep on anything when you’re 19 years old. So the next Friday night the bunch of us got into the quart jar. Aft er maybe two or so hours we were really “loose.” Joe and I could still walk, so we went out in the backyard, whereupon we took a real good look at the old 50-foot high windmill. Th e blades had been chained to the frame so it wouldn’t turn. Th at didn’t seem right, a windmill that couldn’t turn. So you-know-who climbed to the top and took off the chain. Th ere was a slight breeze but that old windmill was so rusted it would not turn. Well, about 3 o’clock in the morning a big wind came up and a gigantic SCREECH was heard all over town. Lights came on, people were yelling, and I went back to sleep. Th e next morning, the owner dropped by and politely asked us to put the chain back on. I told Joe I couldn’t do it sober, so he climbed up and reattached the chain. Come to think of it, that was the last windmill I climbed. ◆ Continues on page 14 ▶ 13 Professional Land Surveyors of Oregon | www.plso.org


PLSO Issue 4, 2014 July/August
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