Don't worry, his crown jewels were spared ...

All I needed to do was drive a pick-up truck. That was G.I. Vic's belief as I thoroughly enjoyed an All-American day in and around this fine city of Portland.

The day officially started with a drive up to Hooters in Beaverton. These restaurants feature friendly and fabulous females (say that three times fast) who serve great food with a smile. Did I mention the waitresses are scantily clad? Unfortunately, I don't have photos, but I reckon I'll return serve there soon enough and the blog will be forever thankful. I had the chicken parmesan, which apparently is a chicken parmagiana. I disagree. When asked this evening what foods I miss the most, the pub parma would be at the top of the list.

Then we hit up the Nike outlet in Northeast Portland. The credit card is battered and bruised after taking several hits today. I lucked onto some nice old-school kicks for just under $US30 as I shopped until I dropped. Found an old school Michael Jordan Bulls jersey circa '84, also for just under $US30 at Foot Locker. It looks very similar to the retro Blazer jersey I bought at the NBA Store in New York. There would be more bargains to be had with Rivjuando and Soule Sista at Washington Square later in the day. It was like giving a slab of beer to an alcoholic. Indeed, I was thirsty for bargains.

And what would an American experience be without shooting a gun? After shop-hopping, G.I. Vic took me to the shooting range to unload on some unsuspecting silhouettes. The poor souls, pictured with yours truly, didn't stand a chance.

But first, I had orientation and a test. After achieving a perfect score, I shot G.I. Vic's 9mm and Dirty Harry's weapon of choice. Many thanks to the good souls at the Clackamas County Sheriff's Office and G.I. Vic for making the experience enjoyable after my initial hesitance. I'll add the disclaimer: guns are to be treated with the ultimate respect and this blog does not, in any way, condone their misuse.

'Nuff said.