Boon: Jesus. What’s going on?
Hoover: They confiscated everything, even the stuff we didn’t steal.
Bluto: They took the bar! The whole ****ing bar!
[Otter grabs a bottle of whiskey and throws it to Bluto, who chugs it all]
Bluto: Thanks. I needed that.
Hoover: Christ. This is ridiculous. What are we going to do?
Otter & Boon: Road trip.

Perhaps after all the world is going to end with a bang rather than a whimper. Sometimes when things are falling apart it seems like there is nothing to do but load up the car, crank up the stereo and go on a road trip. We are heading up to Oregon to visit Paula’s sister Marina and her family. We plan on socially distanced camping in her large garden for a few days and then, ah, who knows. We’ll be back in SF in a week or two.

Rather than drive up to Eugene in one day, we are breaking the journey in Dunsmuir, in a strange motel consisting almost entirely of old railway cabooses.

We are in number 10 close to the brook and the pool.

It is on a short stretch of rail line, and rocks a little when you get on. There is other old rail equipment around the site, including an older caboose…

… a huge wooden snowplough…

… and the old locomotive at the top of the post. They let you climb up in the cab and play with the controls.