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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I didn’t get a chance to write yesterday because of a commitment to double Happy Hours – twice the fun. Yes, I did some serious “Day Drinking”. See Post #964. I scheduled both a “Leadership Luncheon” and an “After Work” rendezvous, with only enough time in between to run home and let the dogs out. I still do have some working friends that can’t have a breakfast beer, so in order to accommodate both my fellow retirees and former co-workers, two meet-ups were strategically arranged.  An early Cubs game at Buffalo Wild Wings started my busy day and a late dinner at WildFin with my working wife was the finishing touch.  The additional Coors Light drafts at the Home Field filled in the fleeting hours of a Friday. 

This morning started with the Dick Inukai Foundation 5k run that my wife’s company supports. Dogs were not allowed, so our schnauzers were visibly disappointed as we headed out the door without them. Tonight is the Train and Goo Goo Dolls concert at the Sunlight Amphitheater  just across the I-5 bridge in Washington state. It’s all part of another busy weekend that my wife planned to keep her occupied during these precious few days off work. She likes to keep moving, while I prefer a more sedate activity like sitting on a bar stool. I certainly couldn’t handle “Day Drinking” as a routine, but once a week is an acceptable practice. Yesterday, was an exception that led to an early bed time. Two beers say “cheers”…Three too many for me…Four makes me snore….Five never drive…..Six makes me sick. Regardless, even one leads to frequent visits to the urinal for a guy my age.

I’m more of a martini guy – eXtra dirty, eXtra dry, eXtra olives (XXX rated). Beers go right through me, but I have a lot of beer-guzzling friends that want me to join them. One even makes his own, so on occasion I try to adapt to the much less expensive alternative than preferred Tito’s Vodka. Coors Light is my with-the-guys-go-to that can be quite refreshing, although it’s like drinking glorified water. I try to rotate in a Diet Coke or two to offset some of the drowsiness that I experience from drinking hops. Beer also tends to put-on the weight, which somehow seems impossible after all those trips to the men’s room. 

Not all of my meetings involve martinis or beers. In fact, I’ve missed the last couple of baseball breakfasts, including this morning’s because of the fundraiser. I sent some money to pay for items that others have found to match my interests. Yesterday, I received a few of these personal treasures in the process of “Day Drinking.” These included a couple of signed photos from former White Sox pitcher Gerry Staley, who grew up around this area; some matchbook covers from first baseman Ted Kluszewski’s Cincinnati steakhouse called Jack & Klu’s; and a bar glass with the Sox logo. There also was a 1963 White Sox Year Book, the final year of Sherm Lollar’s playing career, and an Orestes (Minnie) Minoso baseball card printed in Spanish. These came from garage sales and swap meets that my fellow collectors discovered, ever on the outlook for items that I might want. It’s very thoughtful of them and well worth a few beers or a slab of bacon for their efforts.