I just got off the phone with a friend from way back in South Dakota days. He’s living in Portland now, working for a big tech company, and having a blast in that funky place. Really, as far as cities go, Portland is tops. And Noel for sure belongs there. He was telling me about this new place he moved into.
“I think the neighbor is crazy”
Crazy? Like crazy crazy?
“yeah, he came over the other night with a helmet and a 6pack. Turns out the helmet’s for his 1950’s go-carts that he has. Oh, the beer is too. So it’s around 8pm, and we spend the next 4 hours racing around the back streets of Portland. We stopped a couple times at some bars.”
where do you park your go-cart at the bar?
“oh we just pull up to the front door and park them there. We stopped at this one hipster bar downtown, when we walked in everyone looked at us real strange. REAL strange.”
“bike paths, back alleys, sidewalks, the road too, but you have to be really careful of cars. They would just drive over you. You’re like only 2 inches off the ground, surrounded in steel and a motor at your back. After 4 hours of that, i couldn’t feel my hands or my ass.”
Did you say you think your neighbor is crazy?
“yeah, I have to park down the block now and sneak in to my place at night after work so he won’t see me coming home. As soon as he thinks I’m home he comes running over with helmets and beers. I guess most of the neighbors like him, he’s been here a long time. Except one lady down the road- she hit him with a rake when he was driving by on his go cart. Yeah, it was bad. I guess he got some money out of it, though.”
Noel, it seems like all the really cool stuff in life is reserved for you.
“Yeah, it’s really hard to turn down go-carts and beer.”