Oregon Tavern Age: Horny Rod

I know a retired log truck driver, let’s call him Rod, or horny Rod as he is better known in OTA country.

Rod drove a log truck through practically every state, federal, tribal and privately-owned forestland in the Pacific Northwest. His recall of these places is truly astonishing.

He is a walking, talking, drinking museum of all things logging in the region for almost half a century and claims the distinction of being one of the last log truck drivers alive who carried a single log on his rig. One. An old growth beauty that perhaps even he was sad to see cut.

Well, not just a museum of logging lore, but of the hard livin, lovin’, drinkin’, fightin’ ways of a logging man.

Sometimes I take notes after Rod recounts a particularly crazy story, like the recent one about going home one drunken night with half the team of the Forks female bowling team in the 70s. He just loved the Forks babes back in the day. Forks was goddamn wild.

He also told me how he heated a can of chili every day for lunch on the job. Just placed it on the engine block after a load to the mill or run back to the clearcut and it would be bubbling in minutes.

Rod and I got sideways one afternoon a while back. He dropped the n-word when we were discussing the NBA player protests. I cut into him right then and there and said I wouldn’t stand for that sort of thing and I got up and left.

We were a little cold to each other after that, but later, he gave me a token for a free beer without telling me the reason.

Maybe that counts for progress in OTA country. Who knows?