Woody & My IBF

Heard that this weekend was Car d’Lane. That is a vintage car weekend in Coeur D'Alene. I missed it by one day. Can’t win them all. Well I can’t win any as I haven’t entered any. There was a cruise. I want to cruise. The stars are crossed.

My favorite mystery waiter was not at breakfast. I guess he really wasn’t at breakfast yesterday. Breakfast still sucked. Snuck up on bellman with our luggage because there were about 15 pieces (truly) and no one had tipped him. Also wanted to make sure it got on the truck. Mr. Mission Impossible is driving it.

This is Ken. Met Ken in the garage. Don't know why he is wearing white. Doesn't seem like a cook's white. Ken’s cousin’s brother (wouldn’t that make him a cousin too?) has Paulson Shooting Clays in Canada. We should go there.

Began the trip. About 15 minutes later realized I hadn’t put up the GPS. This was important because the directions to our next stop say take 95 until you get there. But it didn’t say how to get to 95. Found GPS.This is what the ride looks like with the GPS. Found 95. 95 is not an interstate here, at least not the kind with the red white and blue shield. It has a white shield with the plain old black numbers and two or four lanes depending where you are.  95 gets rural pretty quickly and the things to be seen are many. First is a gigantic wooden rollercoaster. It is at a place called Silverwood. It is summer and nobody is at Silverwood, even on the water slides that look like Habitrails. Maybe it’s just too early.

Drive more. This is what the driving looks like. It is gorgeous.



GPS quits. Out of battery. This means the cigarette lighter isn't working. Will go through days of figuring out the problem. Pass Affordable Storage. The sign is faded red and the storage pretty decrepit tin siding. No wonder it's affordable. Pass Rickety Rocker Antiques. Definitely rickety. Pass very cool and picturesque wooden fire hall, post office and garage combo. Garage was spelled out in big wooden letters. There are wild lupines all over the sides of the road. I cannot grow lupines. My teacher in the Conifers class can. But I can grow sweet peas and he cannot. Pick up grave yard. Tractor graveyard. I could spend the whole morning and probably part of the afternoon in this stretch but I am on A Tour. Smokey Bear sign, the old kind not the ones that are uniform and brown and yellow and are in National Parks but the ones that say Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires and this one only says Only You because we are supposed to know the rest. Concrete Creations. Like metal stuff at Carlisle but made of concrete. Flea Mart. Stacey's Country Kitchens. Boy, I'd like to eat there but I am on A Tour. Holiday Inn Express! Cements deal. Note to self: come back with Woody soon. By self.
Needed a people break. Not exactly sure what a people break is, but that's what they call it in the trail club where I met ex-husband. Needed to pee. Got it?  Stop at gas station. We don't need to buy anything to use the washrooms (that's what they call them in Canada and I'm practicing my Canadese) because we have a cool car and everybody is nice to a cool car. The gas station has a neat counter with someone cooking and one of those circular things that the waitress puts the orders on for the cook. I'm not sure why they have it as there are 5 stools and the waitress and the cook are the same person. I talked to Rich from New York here. I can't remember what about. I was in a hurry.

There are also matchsticks at the gas station. Lots of them. When was the last time you saw a real wooden match except for those fancy ones that people give you when they don't want to bring you another bottle of wine because they can't remember if the one in their hand is actually one you gave them last time you went over there? I thought so. But here near CdA, matchsticks are a big business. I know this because they said so on the lake cruise.

Fluff is flying around the windshield. It looks like a giant dandelion has just been poofed upon. It is cottonwood trees. As we get further out, there is a Game Xing sign, not just Deer Xing like we have at home. I wonder if they have bears here. Beef jerky! Buffalo jerky! Elk jerky! I want to stop for jerky but alas I am not on my  own in Woody. There are lots of log homes here and a tugboat on a crane. Here is Con Bolt. Serving Rural America. Con Bolt has screws and nuts and bolts. Pass Boondocks Bar and Grill.

Drive through Sandcreek. It has come out of nowhere but is very, um, touristy. Not South-Of-The-Border which has signs for 1500 miles before the South Carolina boarder, but more upper class touristy. The Coldwater Creek store where ladies who need those sort of flowing clothes because they are old but not dead has a wine bar. And a store named Hey, Cupcake! The exclamation point is theirs.




Go on to Bonner's Ferry which is too early for lunch but we have been told to eat lunch there anyhow because there is nothing else to eat until we finish the trip today. 90 year-old cranky needs to pee again so takes first advice on where to eat from fat biker. They will have hamburgers. I really wanted to go to the place with the chicken in a birdcage on the roof. So I did. This is Hannah. She reminds me of Bri the barista. Very hippy retro soft. She gave me a great lunch of an apple and something sandwich and tomato soup that tasted like stewed tomatoes in a good way. I also have a huge apple dumpling home made that day. With a little ice cream. Just a little. Shared my table with fellow tourists who are vegan. He says he is the only Republican vegan known to man. It is helping with his artery clogging. I don't feel one speck guilty for eating my dumpling. Lots of apples here in Idaho. Maybe they come from Oregon.

This a gas stop. In particular, it is the Wild Horse Mercantile. Wild Horse Mercantile has one gas pump. This is it. Had to wait as giant RV fills up.




Ken drives the RV I think (lots of Kens in Idaho). Ken says that he isn’t traveling as high rent as us. He’s just a Model T. I thought he was pulling our leg. Turns out that his wife (?) has a Model T Ford in the back of said huge RV. Shoulda gotten a clue from the Centennial Model T sticker on the back. It is a very big sticker. Ken lets me look inside. This is what's in there. The front license plate says Sue’s Model T. I presume owner is Sue. The Ghost I am driving is Gales Ghost. I know that because it is also on the front plate. Anyhow, Sue bought the car for $2000 from a guy who has never given anybody a break except for her this one time. The T had been a Montana racer with wire wheels. It now has wooden wheels.

This is the side of Sue's Model T. She has a very practical gas can on the running board. She is prepared. We are not. She also has a sticker that says:
Went inside the mercantile. They have a wine and beer cooler and lots of toilet paper. Cigarettes and chewin tabacka too. This is Jenny. Jenny said the owner is putting in a pub next door. The locals are glad the mercantile is there. Canadians too. They buy gas there. They pay about 1.29 Canadian for a liter of gas. This means gas is around six dollars a gallon or something. Don’t mind my math- I heard the bottom line from someone who knows these things.

This is the Spokesman Review that Jenny sells. Where is Spokesman? Oh, Spokane. That is a bit of a hike from here but I guess the CdA paper isn't really all that good. Here are the headlined I read in CdA:

Annual lawnmower races attract hundreds
Ironman helps Don Ashenbrenner stay fit, fight crimes
Husband-wife doctor team retiring after 31 years- open house farewill scheduled for Friday (this is on front page)
New York City, New Orleans and San Francisco won't 'wash away' anytime soon
Pair arrested after church break-in
Wide load coming through: Megaload permit approved for route on US 95, I-90

The local section... local? I thought the first section was local. Anyhow, you can find out about the Lions Club's presentaton of its highest award and summer reading programs underway. The sports section is pretty good though. I wish it were football season.

This is Sam (I think). He owns the joint. Sam has Sue and Ken to stay when they are on the Model T tours. The tours are usually on the east or west coast but are here again this year. There will be a parade. Sam has to back the giant RV around to somewhere that Sue and Ken will be staying.








This is cranky. He will look like this the rest of the trip I reckon.


This is how we know how to get to Canada in case we can't see the giant processing place 50 feet in front of this. There are lots of motorcyclists posing for pictures in front of the sign. I wonder what would happen if we blocked the intersection into Canada.





You need to wait a very long time to get into Canada. They thoughtfully provide luxurious bathroom accommodations. Wait, those are the US porta-potties. I wonder what the Canadians have on the other side. Probably washrooms. It is also very very hot. Put up the tiny foldable umbrella that fits in your purse. It helps.

This is the  line we are waiting on. This is the store. There is also a post office. Well, a small blue mailbox that's anchored to the wall. I'm not sure if they are serious about the hotel part or if it is like the Diamond Horseshoe Review at Disneyworld.









This is Cristal. She’ll sell you a bottle of water for $1.65 and bring it to your car. This is good because I already told you it is very very hot.

Finally our time to face the music. Agent 17166 was ours. You can't ask her name because she is the boss and she will not tell you in case you want to track down her family and hold them hostage until she lets you be the kingpin of a large smuggling operation of drugs for seniors on Medicare (or is that Medicaid, I always get them mixed up). We had our passports, sorta knew how many days we were staying in Canada and blew it when we had to say where we were from. Uh, Florida. Uh, Pennsylvania. Uh, Maryland. We says this all at once. We looked guilty. Once again, cool car gets us out of trouble.

Could be what with the tractor and Holiday Inn Express lead ins. Two-scoop Steve. They have first named stored here in Canada too. Holiday Haven has Hockey Special tonight. Huh? RAPP. Report All Predators and Poachers. Reminds me of the guy in New Orleans with that DADD Dads against daughters dating tee shirt. Even the predators part. Sign on barn:

This is where you buy back all your grandmother's stuff that you took to Goodwill after she died.

Cross the border and pull over. It is my turn to drive! I have been listening to “keep in your lane” and “attack the hill” and “give it gas, you won’t get up the hill” and “slow down so you don’t grind the gears” while I was a passenger, so I am attempting to put all that wisdom into action. The way I figure it is that I should just floor it all the time and hug the right side of the road. I did not get yelled at once. I did, however, have a bit of a time backing in to my parking space at the Prestige Rocky Mountain Resort. I would have done just fine except a big guy next to me insisted on turning the steering wheel for me. Look, my guns are as big as yours are, so let me do it myself. I just hate traveling in a pack. Someone else wanted to help me snap my canvas in place. This was very nice but I just wanted to do it myself. My first words were “self do-it,” so you can see this is not a new issue. Told by a whole host of people that the front tires need air, particularly the left one at 25 pounds. Right one is 45. Sent screaming father and step-mother to tire place that you can see from the parking lot. I have to hold the space. There are lots and lots of parking spaces but cranky thinks that there may not be one left because not everybody it there. Two cars are not here. This is my step-mother’s wheelie that she uses because it is too expensive to get a lot of computer bags. This one came from Target and cost $20. All the computer equipment is in it. Or not. It doesn’t fit. This is what she carries: a MacBook, a MacBook Air, 2 iPhones and 2 iPads. No one else uses any of that. I say ditch the suitcase and put an iPhone in your purse and the iPad with the Trip Tik. Done. Anyhow, I use the kiddie wheelie to hold the space while I sit on the curb and check my email. Apparently no gas station has air for the tires and they didn't go to tire place I told them to. Bitching and moaning all around. We will go to the tire place in the morning.

This is Hirsch. He is the front desk guy of our hotel Prestige Mountain Resort or something which sounds great when you make reservations but is really a regular old hotel. Later find out that Prestige is a chain kinda like Best Western. We have decided to go to Frank's Steak and Schnitzel Haus for dinner and I needed to ask Hirsch if we could get a cab as I know from the girl I made reservations with that it is quite a hike from the Prestige and we don't have air in the tires. We can. Decide not to as friend lets us hop in their Rolls Royce Silver Ghost. It is older than ours so it gets more points in the silly scoring (everybody thinks it's silly so that's why it is done).

Pass giant pink bunny at Pita WrapIt. Find Frank's. Park in small car spaces although we are clearly very large. We are give an large private dining room at Frank's. See? Cool cars get you a lot.

This is Ryan. He is a waiter at Frank’s Steak and Schnitzel Haus. I wanted, needed, had to go to Franks. They make a mighty large schnitzel. This is half an order. It has spaetzle which I love. My grandmother used to make it. We always had her cook it in chicken broth and we put lots of butter on it. You have to make them small or else they cook weird and are heavy as lead. I asked Ryan how many schnitzels they make. He has to ask Frank himself. Hours pass between ordering and actually seeing the schnitzel on the table, so I think he really is hunting down Frank.


We have been instructed to get half orders of the schnitzel. This is a good thing, because this is what a half order looks like. Boobs provided for comparison. These are big boobs. Someone also had bratwurst without the sauce. It was also ginormous.

And here is Frank. He uses 650 to 700 pounds of pork for schnitzel every week. This town has a population of just over 2500.  Frank gets his pork right from the processor. This is not too surprising as we have passed a lot of processors. Frank lived in Ontario before Cranbrook. And before that, Europe. Frank is from the border of Slovenia and Austria (I hope my geography isn’t too creative) and his mother made schnitzel. He shook everyone’s hands and thanked us for coming. A little bit later, Frank came in with a big slab of pork to show us. It was beautiful and pink and fresh. Also, he is sending apple strudels for us because they are also just like his mother made.

The strudel is outstanding. I could not take a picture fast enough. Here are the strudels in the process of being demolished. The teenager's end of the table wasn't as neat as the other guys'. We decide to order one schnitzel and nine strudels next time. Ryan takes away the unfinished food. Too bad they don’t have more pigs around here, he says. Why? Apparently Uncle Piggy likes to eat little piggies.

Clean out tote bag. Find notebook. Cry.