A naked Jack Nicholson has finished bathing in some underground hot springs. He grips a ledge in the ceiling and does and ally-oop, hopping feet first out through a manhole. Outside, I see that he is parked in a turn-out on a narrow road which skirts the edge of a steep, rocky cliff. It is a foggy, drizzly day. Just ahead the road forks, with one road raising high, the other dropping down. At the turnout there are mailboxes belonging to little old ladies who live here for the spring’s rejuvenating properties. I try to get my bearings so I’ll be able to find the place again. I ask Jack where we are: "West Carolina on the Oregon Trail."
Rowdy’s Dream Blog #143: Naked Jack Nicholson
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