The stretch from Eugene’s Roosevelt Boulevard to the Randy Papé Beltline houses a bowling alley, coffee shops, hotels, bars and restaurants. As the sun goes down, the lack of lights along the roadway makes it easy to see the stars. My view of the sky is quickly interrupted by the loud rumble of a huge truck racing by. The driver looks down, with the light of his phone illuminating his face, now in the distance. Suddenly, I remember that I’m standing along a highway: Highway 99.
A former barbecue restaurant now stands as an abandoned building covered in vivid and detailed graffiti. Makeshift tarp shelters are somewhat concealed by fences and street signs. There’s a real sense of history and culture around this area, even if it may not be a glamorous one.
As I walked up to the 7-Eleven on Roosevelt, I began chatting with a man named John. Appearing to be in his late 60s, John was accompanied by his three small dogs: Rambo, Ruckus and Rosie. They sat in a large cart atop all of his belongings as John explained that he has been living on the streets for the past nine years, with most of that time spent along Highway 99…