Fourteen north miles of Tillamook, Terry sprung for a room with two doubles overlooking the sea. Closer than I’ve ever couched surfed to the great Pacific. He’s spoiling us. Which is significant on his pizza delivery wage. I’m certainly not complaining. Or discouraging this indulgence. We are cozily lodged at the Silver Sands Motel and with wifi. They’ve given us the off-season rate of $105. I can catch up on a pile of work. There’s a salt water pool and a sauna. With all of the rain, and a new leak in Rig-o-tini’s middle skylight, we sprung for a second night.

the fellas visited the Tillamook Air Museum (no great draw for me, but big enough to fit three dirgibles I’m told). I was happy to stay behind and roll out my yoga mat. I’m a bit stir crazy with these guys, their football debates and farting contests. But in doses they are a ton of fun. Tonight we are playing poker. Jake is excited. Its his first time. He puts on his toy glasses and rolls the card box up his short sleeve.  I’m getting busted for writing about all this. But its so funny. Jake and Terry are arguing and sipping non-alcoholic wine. After he acquired pancreatitis this year, Terry became a dry alcoholic. I’m impressed with his resolve. He imbibles alcohol-removed merlot. Is it the ritual he loves? Jake loves being on par with the grownups. He has just won 5 card stud with five clubs. Across the table, he whoops at Terry. Who winks  pours them both some “merlot.”

All day Jake has denied that Terry works for Papa Johns. He just can’t believe it. “Even if you did, which you don’t, why would you?” He implores? Terry responds, “Well, I was just bored in Tennessee. There’s not much fancy work. Retired, I couldn’t just play golf and walk the dogs all day. So I took a job delivering pizzas. Paid for this trip!”

Jake is incredulous. I can’t keep a straight face. Which contributes to the implication of a ruse. I can understand Terry. I always have to be busy with something. Look at me now, typing away. I can’t even keep 100% of my mind on the poker game. I admire Terry’s work ethic, his effort to maintain. And I love Jake’s incredulity, his insistence that Terry shouldn’t have a job like that. “Maybe for a guy under 30, Uncle T,” Jake says (that’s what he calls Terry), “But not for a grandpa!”

I asked Terry if he Papa Johns makes good Pizza. “Oh yeah. There’s one with Alfredo sauce, sausage, olives, green peppers and pineapple. Its fantastic.”

“Hmm,” says Jake, “sounds like Chef’s Mistake. That’s good.”

“Oh yeah!” says Terry, “Papa’s in de HOUse!”

Jake’s eyebrows shoot up. I think he’s convinced. But he won’t admit it.