Sharp Old Bird

I just got back to the hotel after having a late dinner. I rode 50 miles today up past Pilot Rock and I'm ready for bed. Ahead of me, an elderly couple with four young girls are heading toward the hotel. Must be the grandchildren.

Grandpa is a barrel shaped man with a walker. His wife is helping him down the concrete stairs that lead to a side entrance. They've probably been married longer than I've been alive. I won't try and get around them, and I think to use the other side entrance. I stop and correct myself, "Why don't you help? Go hold the door open." I go down the dirt next to the stairs and open the door. You need your room card to do that, and grandma has her hands full. I'll get the pathway clear.

Grandpa stumbles at the stairs. I guess the wife got a little to far ahead of him with the walker. Just like an old couple, by old I mean they got married on the Mayflower on the way over, he says a cynical gripe. "You trying to collect on the insurance?" She says nothing. Years of marriage can teach you how to take it in stride. This journey, like a adventure in a fantasy novel where two souls venture across the dangerous land, is going to take time. I figure the granddaughters will guard the way into the great inn, and I set the door open. It stays. Two of the girls hold the other door. I head to my room.

Now I'm not as smart as grandma. I haven't been around as long, and I'll bet she picked up a lot more along the way than I will. Let me tell you how I know. You ask yourself, why bump off the old man way out in Pendleton? It's remote. It's plausible. But the big thing is that the insurance payout covers the lawyers. They go after the Red Lion. The hotel is a tad short on 'handicap accessibility'. I believe there's an act of Congress about that. Then she gets the big bucks. In the meantime, she can take the girls over to the new Starbucks and get some hot coffee.