{"id":423,"date":"2018-08-04T19:36:51","date_gmt":"2018-08-05T02:36:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bruceramsey.net\/?page_id=423"},"modified":"2025-07-20T17:49:13","modified_gmt":"2025-07-21T00:49:13","slug":"bud-and-hoppe-1979","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/bruceramsey.net\/index.php\/bud-and-hoppe-1979\/","title":{"rendered":"Bud and Hoppe (1979)"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The next story is an account of an afternoon in August 1978. I scribbled some notes that October, and wrote a first draft in January 1979 and a second in January 1980. I never submitted it for publication.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The summer day was edging toward 5 p.m. Mel and I were just north of Hoquiam, Washington, on U.S. 101 trying to hitchhike back to his car.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Grubby and unshaven from a five-day hiking trip in the Olympics, we did not look reputable. Mel made up for this by manic thumbs-up motions and springing about on his toes.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0His antics seemed to work. A late-model Dodge sedan, the plain type often owned by utility districts, swerved onto the gravel. Inside were two loggers.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0We got in, and the car pulled back into traffic. \u201cI\u2019m Bud Bishop,\u201d said the man in the passenger seat. He was about 38. He stuck out his hand and I shook.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0He jabbed his thumb at the driver. \u201cThis here\u2019s Hoppe. Dean Hopkins is his name. Ya want a beer?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cSure,\u201d Mel said. They had two six-packs of Blitz.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Hoppe reminded me of Lennie in Of Mice and Men<\/em>. He was 52, and looked like he\u2019d started drinking in grade school. His skin was as wrinkled as an old tarp. His eyes were too small, like a monkey\u2019s, and too far below his eyebrows. His nose looked like it had been bashed with a hammer and shoved sideways.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0He had on a kid\u2019s baseball cap with the bill flipped up. His work shirt was spotted with grime, and his baggy gray pants were held up by suspenders. He was happy and drunk, cruising down Highway 101 in the logging-company car.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Bud did the talking. \u201cWhere you guys goin\u2019?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cQuinault River.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cIn the river? You want us to throw you in the river?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Hoppe grinned drunkenly and said, \u201cWe c\u2019n throw \u2019em off the briiIIIIIdge\u201d \u2014 dragging out that word like stretching a piece of chewing gum until it sagged.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0We told them our story. We had come off a 50-mile hike in Olympic National Park. When we got back to the trailhead in early afternoon, we found that somebody had ripped out the spark-plug wires and the radiator cap in Mel\u2019s car.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cShiiiit,\u201d said Bud. \u201cIt\u2019s them teepee creepers.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cHuh?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cCanOOOe bailers,\u201d said Hoppe.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cIndians,\u201d said Bud, as Hoppe chuckled at the city boys.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0We allowed that maybe it was the Indians and maybe it wasn\u2019t. In any case, we had hitched a ride south to Aberdeen, and bought the wires and cap at an auto-parts store. All we wanted to do was get back to Mel\u2019s car, fix it, and head home to Seattle.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Two hitchhikers and a gas station appeared at the village of Humptulips. Hoppe pulled in for gas, and Bud waved at the hitchers, a pimply guy about 19 and his ugly girlfriend. Bud had promised these two a ride, so they climbed in the front seat.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Hoppe had gone in to take a leak, and the kid referred to him as an \u201cold alcoholic.\u201d Bud didn\u2019t like that. \u201cSure, he drinks a lot,\u201d he said. \u201cBut he\u2019s a damn good worker. He\u2019s been a logger 30 years \u2014 hell, it\u2019s all he\u2019s got brains for.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Hoppe ambled back, sporting the same idiot grin, and plowed the overloaded Dodge back onto 101. He reached under the seat for a bottle of R&R, and had a swig. A few miles down the road, he let the hitchhikers out.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Bud was still bothered by the kid\u2019s remark. He turned to me. \u201cIf you was that kid, askin\u2019 for a ride, would you \u2019a\u2019 said that about Hoppe?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cNope.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cHoppe,\u201d he said, louder this time, \u201cThat kid was sayin\u2019 you was an alcoholic.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cThAAAAs what I am,\u201d slobbered Hoppe. \u201cAlcoHOLLLLic.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0A few minutes later Hoppe said, \u201cLe\u2019s stop at the red cock.\u201d He pulled over at a roadhouse with a sign, \u201cRed Rooster.\u201d Inside it was done up in cedar shakes and antlers. Some log-truck drivers were at one end of the bar, and a cheap-looking woman at the other.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Hoppe had been seated only 30 seconds before he started hollering the bartender\u2019s name. The man brought four cans of beer \u2014 Blitz, which he had plenty of in the car. Hoppe gurgled about the woman, who was seated near the men\u2019s room.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cI gotta pee,\u201d he said, getting up.<\/span><\/p>

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\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cBetter steer clear o\u2019 that piece o\u2019 ass up there, Hoppe,\u201d said Bud. Hoppe swerved around her as if she were a snake.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0We walked back to the car. \u201cHad t\u2019 git outta thERE. Tongue was gittin\u2019 stiff,\u201d Hoppe said. He fired up the Dodge, remarking, \u201cThis radiator leaks so fast you can\u2019t fill it up.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cYep. Had a girl like that once,\u201d said Bud.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Hoppe swerved onto the highway in front of an oncoming car, and we were back to worrying about drunk driving.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cHey,\u201d said Bud. \u201cYou boys know the right order to put those plug wires in? I bet you don\u2019t.\u201d<\/span>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cI think so,\u201d said Mel.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cWhat kinda car is it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201c \u201964 Comet wagon.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cOne five three six two four,\u201d said Bud, proud of himself.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cThat\u2019s right,\u201d said Mel. Bud should have made Mel say it, I thought; he was the one trying to prove something.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cHey, Hoppe,\u201d said Bud, jabbing him, \u201cI bet these guys could even start a fire.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cSure can,\u201d said Mel. \u201cWe just about burned down the forest last night.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cYou better not,\u201d said Bud. These were loggers, and that wasn\u2019t a funny joke.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cHey Hoppe, I think we\u2019d better drive these college boys to their car, jus\u2019 to see if they can get them plug wires in right.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Good, I thought. We needed the ride. I just hoped Hoppe could stay on the road. He was barreling along at 55 and weaving. He fiddled with the air vent. \u201cShhhhhit. Can\u2019t git this to blow right.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cYep,\u201d said Bud. \u201cHad a girl like that once.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Pretty soon Bud started in on the government. The government was buying up all the old homesteads in the park. \u201cDamn gov\u2019mint already got Lake Ozette. Well, I got five acres, and sure\u2019s hell they gonna want it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0We said something about writing to his congressman, and he laughed. \u201cNaw. If they want it, they\u2019ll get it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Hoppe turned into the dirt road to Bud\u2019s place, and hit the breaks. \u201cPiss-stop!\u201d he said, swinging the door open and unzipping his fly. We all did.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Bud\u2019s place was a mobile home in a clearing among the trees. Scattered around were a castoff Cadillac de Ville and several wrecks, plus a truck that maybe worked and maybe didn\u2019t.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Bud\u2019s wife and two kids looked dumb and harassed. The wife was sour at the sight of us, because it meant that Bud had to leave again. He called her a stupid broad, issued some commands, and piled us into his Caddy. We roared off to Hoppe\u2019s to feed the horses\u2014a chore that had to be done before dark\u2014and then it was off to Mel\u2019s car.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0We each slugged down another beer, except Hoppe, who swigged R&R. He got to explaining why none of his family was home.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cBunch a hikers, city folk, who didn\u2019 know for\u2019ards f\u2019m bAAAck\u2019rds.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cHad a girl like that once,\u201d said Bud.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201c\u2019n they had all this stuff \u2014 beds \u2019n cAAArd tables. They had to rent hoRRses. Plenty a\u2019money. So the ol\u2019 woman, she\u2019s up at these fools\u2019 campgroUUUUnd\u2013\u201d The word drowned in spit.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cYou sure she\u2019s at the campgrOUUUUnd?\u201d mimicked Bud.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cAw cmOOOOOn, Bud.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0We reached the trailhead at dusk. There was Mel\u2019s \u201cRolls C\u2019nardly,\u201d the \u201964 Comet wagon that \u201crolls down one side of the hill and c\u2019n \u2019ardly make it up the other.\u201d Mel snapped on the distributor cap and spark-plug wires. Bud supervised, waiting to see if Mel really knew the firing order.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0He did, but he had missed one thing: the vandals had also ripped the spring off the throttle, disconnecting the gas pedal. So Bud had the last word after all. He rummaged in his Caddy and pulled out a floppy spring from a hair dryer.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cThis oughta git ya home,\u2019\u2019 he said. \u201cSee, you college boys would\u2019a been up shit crick without me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Mel\u2019s Comet wagon got us home, though he had to pull up on the gas pedal with his foot when he wanted to slow down. He forgot a few times, so there were a few hairy moments, but we got home all right.<\/span><\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

\u00a9 2018 Bruce Ramsey<\/span><\/em><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The next story is an account of an afternoon in August 1978. I scribbled some notes that October, and wrote a first draft in January 1979 and a second in January 1980. I never submitted it for publication. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The summer day was edging toward 5 p.m. Mel and I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-423","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bruceramsey.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/423","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bruceramsey.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bruceramsey.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bruceramsey.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bruceramsey.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=423"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/bruceramsey.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/423\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1584,"href":"https:\/\/bruceramsey.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/423\/revisions\/1584"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bruceramsey.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=423"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}