Hillsboro, Oregon visit.

            Pulled into Hillsboro Elks on a Saturday afternoon with anticipation of seeing our grandson Riley, son and daughter-in-law.

Hillsboro Elks have 8 RV parking spots on their 5 acre lot and while I wouldn't call it a resort, it is a safe place to park with 50 amp and water at a reasonable cost that is most welcome.

This is the face you make when throwing a lit smoke bomb. Bomb may be a misleading word...it was actually more like a smoke dud!

Our son is showing Riley the fine art of fireworks...not sure it's working yet, but Jason certainly has a lot of experience in this field.

Donna and Lisa whipping up some grub for "us men folk", ha ha.

Life must be simple when you get excited about having two of the same spatulas...sorry Jason, I couldn't resist. 

Jason and his mom working in the kitchen.

We had a great dinner of flat iron steak, fish and corn on the cob. Roommate Janie Lyn came late but still got some good left-overs.

I forget just how flexible a 4 year old is.. Riley is like a pretzel, the way he twists around and crab crawls on all fours.

Broke down today and got a hitch, (which I thought was pretty massive for a CRV) and then picked out a bike rack that will accommodate 4 bikes but more important for me is that it swings down while loaded, so we can open the hatch-back.

Pull a pin and it pivots down, even loaded with 4 bikes, it is also easier to load the bikes in the lower swing position for us older folks. This rack will eliminate the problem of trying to hang the bike from the motorhome rear ladder, a problem is that only one bike can be hung there.

My good friend Billy, who was also my motorcycle riding buddy, found a bike on craigslist very near us and had me look at it. The 2000 Valkyrie Interstate had 22,000 miles and I told Billy that if he wasn't interested in it, I was. The damn bike looks like it had just come off the assembly line and it was "13" years old. Billy did buy it and spent the night with us before heading down the coast.

My younger brother and I are known as "Opa's", which is the Dutch word for grandfather and the seller of the bike owned this Pizzaria called "Opa" so how could I not recommend a bike? (I know pizzaria is normally spelled "pizzeria"...but I only spell what I see)