Chapter 5 - The Inquisition

Saturday morning found our hero up early, excited and conflicted. Excited to be going on a date, excited because Sheila was a vivacious, sexy, intelligent girl who wanted to go on a date with him. Conflicted because Sheila was entirely too intelligent and perceptive and seemed to be able to see through into the parts of him he often tried to hide from himself.

And Sheila had actually kissed him.

The minutiae of packing the picnic, scarfing some food and being sure he had everything that would be needed kept him occupied for a while, but the confusion crept back in as he crept through the usual horrible Portland traffic on the way to pick her up. Even on a Saturday morning I-5 still sucked. Maybe moving to the desert would be an option to consider?

After what felt like hours to his whirling brain Pete pulled into her driveway and got out. Before he could even raise his hand to knock at the front door it opened and a whirlwind blew out and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Petey! You made it!"

"Aye, I battled through storm and fire and the idiots who want to park on the I-5 just to be at your door, fair maiden."

"You do have a poetic side, Pete, but the sky is perfectly blue and gorgeous, not stormy."

Taking out his wallet, Pete flipped it open. "Wait a second, I'm sure I have my Poetic Licence in here somewhere. Costco membership… Driver's licence… Safeway Card… Petco discount… Ouch! Hey, I liked it better when you kissed me."

"Smartasses get a smack upside the head."

"We haven't even started our date and already I'm in an abusive relationship."

"Oh you poor, dear thing. I'm so sorry you're a smartass."

"Apology accepted. You ready to go?"

"First things first. You've got to do the Dreaded Dad Interview."

"Why do I hear deep, throbbing cellos and kettle drums in the background when you say things like that?"

"Because it's the next best thing to going down in the basement without turning on the light?"

"Your dad doesn't seem too scary at the family reunions."

"That's because you weren't taking his little flower on a date at the family reunions"

"Little flower?"

"Well, when I was four years old that's what he called me. I kinda grew like a weed since then."

"A lovely blossom such as yourself should never think of herself as a weed."

"Oooh, you silver tongued devil, you. Let's get this over with, the 'rents insist on introductions since I made a couple of really bad choices before I was even supposed to be dating."

"You'll have to tell me sometime."

"Don't worry, I will. You won't have to worry about being a better date than they were, either."

"Hey Dad, you remember Pete?"

"I think so. One of Aunt Aggie's brood if I remember correctly."

"That's right, sir."

"It's too early in the morning to get sired. Uncle Tim will do, and Aunt Martha."

"OK, Uncle Tim."

"So where are you two going and do I need to get out the tracking collar again?"

"Daddy!"

"Uh, I wasn't planning on crossing any state lines."

"Daddy, we're only going over to the coast and maybe Cannon Beach and Ecola."

"Good wholesome, clean fun?"

"Don't get your hopes up."

"It's Pete's hopes I worry about."

"Jeez Daddy, I was the one who had to ask for the date, he's a Boy Scout in thought and deed."

"Hey - I am here, you know!" spoke a bemused Pete.

"Don't worry, son. Or maybe with this hellion you had better worry, but that's your worry. Have a good time."

"Just let me get my stuff."

As evidence of Pete's status as a non-macho male who understands women he refrained from comment as Sheila handed him two large, overstuffed bags and followed with a picnic hamper.

Even at eighteen years of age, Pete was a seasoned Portland driver, which meant he avoided the Interstates between the hours of 5AM and midnight, which constituted rush hour in Portland Oregon. With Sheila and the GPS as consultants (don't listen to her, Pete - I know a better way) they made it to the town of Carlton and, having left the city behind, started winding their way into the mountains. Even though the altimeter on your GPS will tell Portland is only about 300 feet above sea level, there are some serious mountains between you and the coast.

This was the scenic way to get from here to there, winding and twisting through the beautiful woods and forests. If you're not in a hurry, like Pete and Sheila, it's a wonderful drive if you don't mind dodging the occasional logging truck or that the road suddenly turns to gravel in places.

With the sun shining brightly and not a cloud in the sky they ascended the mountain, marveling at the spring green of the newly burgeoning trees and the darker green of the conifers. Every so often a yellow diamond sign reminded them they were on a twisty road, not to mention warnings to beware of log trucks. The area was being actively logged and those behemoths could be daunting when they were careening down the slope toward the cockleshell of a passenger car.

The conversation was a bit slow to get started. Take two teenagers who have known each other casually all their lives and have them suddenly realize they are the opposite sex and they might, just might, be interested in each other as more than an acquaintance and the conversational field becomes as dense as the forest surrounding their vehicle. Add to that the fact that Sheila was the only other person on the planet that knew Pete was a crossdresser and it's hard to find a neutral topic that's safe to discuss.

Family camping trips were a good choice, both having been at home in the woods most of their lives, as was Scouting. They were both starting to relax a bit when, around a hairpin turn, a logging truck about as big as the Biblical Leviathan made it's appearance and Pete abruptly jammed on the brakes and hit the dirt shoulder to avoid becoming one with a load of future wood pulp.

Pete was speechless. Sheila was more vocal. "What the hell does that asshole logger think he's doing!" she cried.

"Are you OK?"

"I think so. Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm OK… And if you start singing that song you can walk home!"

"Song? Why would I be wanting to sing a song after almost getting flattened by a logging truck?"

"I'll explain someday, just not now."