Just across the Columbia River bridge north of Portland is “The Couve,” a nickname for Vancouver, Washington – not to be confused with Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. It was a “hip & cool” way to distinguish it from its big city neighbor, as more and more young people began to settle there in the new millennium. Crossing the bridge became a way of life, as workers dealt with the  impossible rush hour traffic. It’s a scenic drive over the bridge, but frustrating when it frequently turns into a parking lot. I’ve crossed it only a few times since I moved to Portland 5 years ago. The first time was when I was still working to meet with a psychic in Battle Ground who wanted to advertise on the radio. I never got the business, but at least he gave me a reading. I’ve also crossed The Columbia four times on train trips to Seattle and once by luxury coach. Too often, I also fly over it to make travel connections through SEA. In the past month, however, I’ve been to “The Couve” three times by choice, including yesterday.

As I reflect on trips into Washington state, I remember visiting my high school friend Grant when he was working on his doctorate in Seattle. It must have been during the summer before I got married, and I must have flown by myself from Indiana, although I can’t remember after nearly 50 years. I only recall having Dim Sum for the first time and taking a drive close to the base of Mount Rainier. He lived in an apartment and played soccer, while I still lived with my parents and worked a summer job. It was my first experience in the Pacific Northwest, before he moved to Boston. Thanks to him I was able to see both great cities for the first time.

As I fast-forward to present day Washington state, I drove to “The Couve” yesterday for lunch. A former client and friend was in town for the Mecum Auction event, and he wanted to go to a BBQ restaurant that he had heard a lot about. I had to look it up – a place called Daddy D’s located in a Shell gas station. It was only about 40 minutes from my house and I had nothing else planned for the day. As a result, I made the drive across the bridge and bought gas down the street where it was a quarter a gallon cheaper than Shell. Since I was in Washington state, I also had to pump my own gas, a task they do for you in Oregon. It’s good to remind myself on occasion how to work a gas pump. 

When Google Maps finally got me to the address, I had to do a double-take. Outside was a tented smoker and I had to enter the convenience store to find a table, nestled between the wall coolers and shelves of snacks. My friend ordered a brisket sandwich while I was drawn to “The Sherminator,” a pile of pulled pork, hot links, and coleslaw on a sesame seed bun. It was actually named after their hungry son who needed a hardy meal following a football practice. With my interest in former White Sox catcher Sherm Lollar, how could I pass it up? It stood about 8 inches high in a shallow bowl of barbecue sauce. 

I’ve heard that 49ers cornerback Richard Sherman was often referred to as “The Shermanator,” as well as the nickname of the Chuck Sherman character from the American Pie movie series. Sherm Lollar retired from the White Sox in 1962, while the Terminator films didn’t come out until 1984. Consequently, I’m probably the only one who would make that particular connection. Regardless, the sandwich was great – just like Sherm. 

I had just been in “The Couve” the weekend before to pick up some wine at the Farmer’s Market. We actually pre-ordered a case on our way back from Walla Walla, another Washington state adventure. The BBQ lunch was the second meal in the past month that I had with this particular friend in Vancouver, since its in the vicinity of his auction event. “The Couve” is not that far away, but the bridge always seemed like a dividing line rather than an invitation. It’s now becoming a familiar stretch of highway so there will likely be many more crossings in the near future. 

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