A Tree Lined Walk In Center Of Main Quad. In Front of U C’s Cobb Lecture Hall Looking East.
[The Narrator’s thoughts switch back to Chicago, and what Phaedrus believed:] “The mythos. The mythos is insane. That’s what he believed. The mythos that says the forms of this world are real but the Quality of this world is unreal, that is insane! .. And in Aristotle and the ancient Greeks he believed he had found the villains who had so shaped the mythos as to cause us to accept this insanity as reality. .. That. That now. That ties it all together. It feels relieving when that happens.“(Cont.Next)
University of Chicago, Chicago, IL. I agree with the Narrator: We who live in the 20th century and consider ourselves “normal” are the ones who are afflicted with a dominant mythos that is indeed insane. Consider that our country has in excess of 10,000 hydrogen bombs, each on rockets targeted (with 40 min arrival) towards the opposite side of the globe. Few people in our country seem to question it!
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Sunset and Low Elevation. A View Looking East To Where We Were In the West Oregon Mountains.
“[That. That now. That ties it all together. It feels relieving when that happens.] It’s so hard sometimes to conjure all this up, a strange sort of exhaustion follows. Sometimes I think I’m just making it up myself. Sometimes I’m not sure. And sometimes I know I’m not. But the mythos and insanity, and the centrality of this—this I’m sure is from him.
“(Cont.Next)
Six mi North of Medford, OR.
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The Narrator’s Freeway At Dusk.
“When we’re through the folded hills we come to Medford and a freeway leading to Grants Pass and it’s almost evening. A heavy head wind keeps us just up with traffic on upgrades, even with the throttle wide open.“(Cont.Next)
Ten mi North West of Medford, OR. Why did the Narrator experience a strong wind from the West, whereas I, at dusk, found no wind at all? The Narrator came thru here during mid-afternoon in hot, sunny conditions. And here, typical of all daytime coastal regions (or lake edges), there will be winds from over cold water toward the sun-heated inland areas. These “thermal winds” are caused by the land-heated air rising and being replaced by cooler air from over the water. These “thermals” would have created a direct headwind for the Narrator and Chris who were traveling West up this long, steep grade. I have experienced these same winds in several mountain areas inland from California Coast. This is especially true where electrical power generation wind mills called turbines have been recently built.. These are in the Mountain Road Passes Northeast of the San Francisco Bay. In any of these places, when the sun goes down, the fierce winds stop. The coast-mountain-desert-sun relationships here at Medford are similar. So it is not too surprising that when I came along this Freeway, an hour after sundown, there was no wind while I took this photo. But the noise and speed and congestion of the traffic was insane!! There was no time I could snap a photo without speeding cars in it!
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I Discover My First Vineyard On the Way From Medford To Grants Pass. This Must Be the Start of the Narrator’s Wine Country.
“Coming into Grants Pass we hear a frightening, loud, clanking noise and stop to discover that the chain guard has become caught in the chain somehow and now is all torn up. Not too serious, but enough to lay us up for a while to get it replaced. Foolish to replace it, perhaps, when the cycle will be sold in a few days. .. Grants Pass looks like a big enough town to have a motorcycle place open the next morning …. “(Cont.Next)
Two mi West of Gold Hill, OR. The “loud, clanking noise“ and the “chain guard …. all torn up“ are to increase reader tension because this is our warning of events to come!
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A 1930’s Cabin Style Motel.
“ …. and when we arrive I look for a motel. .. We haven’t seen a bed since Bozeman, Montana. .. We find one with color TV, heated swimming pool, a coffee maker for the next morning, soap, white towels, a shower all tiled and clean beds. .. We lie down on the clean beds and Chris just bounces on his for a while. Bouncing on beds, I remember from childhood, is a great depression reliever. .. Tomorrow, somehow, all this can be worked out, maybe. Not now. Chris goes down for a heated swim while I lie quietly on the clean bed and put everything out of mind.“(End Chapter 28.)
North 6th Street, Business District, Grants Pass, OR. My photos here show sunlight out of sync with the ZMM Narrative. I camped overnight East of Grants Pass (near Gold Hill, OR). Therefore, my photos showthe next morning as starting here. This is contrary the story, where the Narrator arrives in Grants Pass in late afternoon, in time for Chris’s bed bouncing and swim. Since there are many motels in town and the Narrator gives no unique clues, I show photos of several of the 1968 era motes that I encountered within several miles of the Grants Pass central business district.
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Yet Another 1930’s Cabin Style Motel.
(Opening of Chapter 29.)“ In the process of taking stuff out of the saddlebags and cramming it back ever since Bozeman, and doing the same with the backpacks, we’ve acquired some exceptionally beat-up gear. … What a mess. In my shirt-pocket notebook I write down: "Buy tackle box for squeezed stuff" and then add "Do laundry." Then, "Buy toenail scissors, sunburn cream, ignition grease, chain guard, toilet paper." This is a lot of things to do before checkout time, so I wake up Chris and tell him to get up. We have to do the laundry“(Cont.Next)
North 6th Street, Business District, Grants Pass, OR.
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Shopping Area, General View.
“At the Laundromat I instruct Chris on how to operate the drier, start the washing machines and take off for the other items. .. I get everything but a chain guard. The parts man says they don’t have one and don’t expect to get one. I think about riding without the chain guard for what little time is left but that will throw crud all over and could be dangerous. Also, I don’t want to do things with that presumption. That commits me to it.“(Cont.Next)
South Business District, Grants Pass, OR. The Grants Pass Directory for 1968 shows Polluck’s Marina & Cycle Shop at 70 Highway 199. I believe this address is now given as 70 Old Highway 99, which Mapquest shows as one mile North of the Rogue River on present day NE 8th Street. As stated in the next caption, this is “down” from the Polluck’s to the welder’s shop. I did not notice a motorcycle place in the downtown area. I am sorry to only offer here a “generic” photo for this ZMM passage. Since this is a fairly large town with plenty of evident change since 1968, I did not attempt to locate the ZMM Laundromat. Instead, I concentrated on finding all I could about possible 1968 welders and possible 1968 welding shops.
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These Trees At the Back of the Property Are All That Remain of Mr. Loy S. Fixsen’s Welding Shop. “Progress” Has Eliminated Both the Shop & All the Big Trees Mentioned by the Narrator.
“ Down the street I find a welder’s sign and enter. .. Cleanest welding place I’ve ever seen. Great high trees and deep grass line an open space in back, giving a kind of village-smithy appearance. All the tools are hung up with care, everything tidy, but no one is home. I’ll come back later. .. I wheel back and stop for Chris, check the laundry he’s put in the drier …. “(Cont.Next)
Back of property, 954 Sixth Street SW, Business District, Grants Pass, OR. We may assume that “Down the street ” meant just downhill from the motorcycle parts place which is one mile North of the Rogue River on present day NE 8th Street. Local people seem to agree that the Welding Shop of Mr. Loy S. Fixsen is the best candidate for the Narrator’s ”ultra clean” description. Mr. Fixen’s shop was literally downhill from the rest of the town, (nearer the Rogue River) at 954 (South?) Sixth Street SW. Contrary to most of the towns on the ZMM Route, Grants Pass has had sufficient “Progress” to seemingly erase all evidence of any “Down the street“ welding shop. If you have additional information or want to suggest other places for the ZMM Grants Pass Welder’s shop, please contact me. Many thanks go to the Grants Pass Historical Society for their timely assistance.
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A Typical Street Scene.
“ …. and putt along through the cheerful streets looking for a restaurant. Traffic everywhere, alert, well-maintained cars, most of them. West Coast. Hazy clean sunlight of a town out of the range of the coal vendors.“(Cont.Next)
North 6th Street, Business District, Grants Pass, OR.
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A 1970 Type Restaurant At The North End of the Business District Near the Freeway and the Motels.
“At the edge of town we find a restaurant …. “(Cont.Next) GOOD.
North 6th Street, Business District, Grants Pass, OR.
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This Is My Restaurant, Which Was Nearer To the Center of Town.
“[ …. we find a restaurant …. ]“(Cont.Next)
Business District, Grants Pass, OR.
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My Restaurant, Inside View.
“ …. and sit and wait at a red and white tableclothed table. Chris unfolds a copy of Motorcycle News, which I bought at the cycle shop, and reads out loud who has won all the races, and an item about cross-country cycling. The waitress looks at him, a little curiously, and then at me, then at my cycle boots, then jots down our order. She goes back into the kitchen and comes out again and looks at us. I guess that she’s paying so much attention to us because we’re alone here. While we wait she puts some coins in the jukebox and when breakfast comes—waffles, syrup and sausages, ah—we have music with it. Chris and I talk about what he sees in Motorcycle News and we are talking over the noise of the record in the relaxed way people talk who have been many days on the road together and out of the corner of my eye I see that this is watched with a steady gaze. After a while Chris has to ask me some questions a second time because that gaze kind of beats on me, and it’s hard to think of what he’s saying. The record is a country western about a truck driver. . . . …. “(Cont.Next)
Business District, Grants Pass, OR.
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The USA West Coast Is A Lonely Place.
“ …. I finish the conversation with Chris. .. As we leave and go out and start up the cycle, there she is in the door watching us. Lonely. She probably doesn’t understand that with a look like that she isn’t going to be lonely long. I kick the starter and gun the engine too hard, frustrated by something, and as we ride for the welder again, it takes a while to snap out.“(Cont.Next)
North 6th Street, Business District, Grants Pass, OR.
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The Narrator Cleans the Chain Guard Under What He Calls “The Spreading Chestnut Tree.“
““The welder is in, an old man in his sixties or seventies, and he looks at me disdainfully—a complete reversal from the waitress. I explain about the chain guard and after a while he says, "I’m not taking it off for you. You’ll have to take it off." .. I do this and show it to him, and he says, "It’s full of grease." .. I find a stick out in back under the spreading chestnut tree and scrape all the grease into a trash barrel. From a distance he says, "There’s some solvent in that pan over there." I see the flat pan and get out the remaining grease with some leaves and the solvent.“(Cont.Next)
Back of property, 954 Sixth Street SW, Business District, Grants Pass, OR. Local people agree that Mr. Fixsen’s personality fits the Narrator’s description. Fixsen is his name, and not word play on what he did for his life’s work! If you have additional information or want to suggest other places for the Grants Pass Welder’s shop, please contact me.
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Welding With Gas Torch.
“When I show it to him he nods and slowly goes over and sets the regulators for his gas torch. Then he looks at the tip and selects another one. Absolutely no hurry. He picks up a steel filler rod and I wonder if he’s actually going to try to weld that thin metal. Sheet metal I don’t weld. I braze it with a brass rod. When I try to weld it I punch holes in it and then have to patch them up with huge blobs of filler rod. "Aren’t you going to braze it?" I ask. .. "No," he says. Talkative fellow. .. He sparks the torch, and sets a tiny little blue flame and then, it’s hard to describe, actually dances the torch and the rod in separate little rhythms over the thin sheet metal, the whole spot a uniform luminous orange-yellow, dropping the torch and filler rod down at the exact right moment and then removing them. No holes. You can hardly see the weld. "That’s beautiful," I say.“(Cont.Next)
North 6th Street, Business District, Grants Pass, OR. Jan Aijian has granted permission for ZMMquality.org to display this photo here. I hope she will soon send more photos which, like this one, that illustrates the welder striking his torch (sparks but no flame), the welder working, and the welder’s gas cylinders, etc as described in these ZMM passages.
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We Should, With Word and Deed, Show Appreciation For Other People’s Work!
“"One dollar," he says, without smiling. Then I catch a funny quizzical look within his glance. Does he wonder if he’s overcharged? No, something else. . . . lonely, same as the waitress. Probably he thinks I’m bullshitting him. Who appreciates work like this anymore?“(Cont.Next)
Back of property, 954 Sixth Street SW, Business District, Grants Pass, OR. If you have additional information you want to suggest, please contact me.
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Did the Narrator and Chris See Flamingo Motel As They Pulled Back Onto the Main Street?
“We’re packed and out of the motel at just about check-out time …. “(Cont.Next)
North 6th Street, Business District, Grants Pass, OR.
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After Traveling Through a Tremendous Range of Wonderful Scenery, We Go Up to a High Mountain Pass and Begin To See California Redwood Trees.
“ …. [out of the motel at just about check-out time] and are soon into the coastal redwood forest, …. “(Cont.Next)
Six mi after California-Oregon Border, CA. The Narrator here leaves unmentioned 50 miles of travel and a tremendous range of scenery and landscape changes! Evidently not needed for the Narrative. Why not?
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