Thinking Travel

We have a bumper sticker on the back of our CRV that spells out ORYGUN in green and yellow letters. I’m sure many of you know this refers to one of the bestest states in the US: Oregon.

A few weeks ago Aaron and I went to Maple View Farm for ice cream. There were no rocking chairs available on the porch so we went back to the car and leaned against the hood as we ate our sundaes and looked at the cornfields.

Then, as two 20-somethings got into the car next to us we heard the following:

Guy (obviously puzzled): “You know what that [bumper sticker] means?”

Girl (laughing): “Mmmm…no idea!”

Guy: “Mmmmm…strange.”

Aaron and I turned to each other and laughed, nearly spitting out our ice cream.

We hear this all. the. time.

Nobody knows what ORYGUN is. Because everyone outside of ORYGUN pronounces it ORYGONE.

I bought the ORYGUN bumper sticker at the UO Bookstore (where I worked book rush in college). I was thrilled to find it and thought it was like a public service to place it prominently on my car. I thought I could quietly teach non-Westerners how to correctly pronounce my home state.

But it hasn’t worked.

The only people who understand the bumper sticker are from ORYGUN.

Everyone else furrows their brow in confusion and then says, “Is that supposed to refer to ORYGONE???” (Yes, this actually happens.)

I then try not to sigh too loudly and not too sarcastically say, “It refers to ORYGUN. It’s spelled this way because most people don’t pronounce it correctly.”

Then they say, “ORYGUN? Isn’t it ORYGONE? Like the ORYGONE Trail?”

Then I say, suppressing another sigh, “No, it’s ORYGUN, like the ORYGUN Trail.”

And then they say, “Huh. So ORYGONE, uh, I mean ORY…GUN, is near NEVAHHHDA, right?”