Yesterday was the last day of summer before the rains began.
So I decided (much to Jake's distress) that we should go camping in the Olympics. It took us four hours to get ready, hauling blankets, emergency crap (Jake truly believes that once you leave your home, you must be prepared, military style, for everything malevolent in the world to attack you...), water, sodas, toothbrushes, etc., out to the truck.
But finally we got onto the road. We made it over to the Olympic Peninsula in record time. It was sunny and warm, with only the slightest hint of rain in the air...
So, we drove around a lake for awhile. Got stuck for a little while on this horrible old road, part of which had caved in. It was narrow and treacherous and we were sure we were going to die on it... So, as soon as we had the chance, we pulled over onto a tiny turn-around, and had some "just-in-case-we-die" nookie. But we made it all the way back down without incident.
So, we drove into the park. We paid ten dollars for a seven-day pass, parked, got out, and ran up to the head of a trail. "One-point-nine MILES?" I moaned. "Dude, I have GOT to eat first..."
So, we drove back the way we'd came, in search of a burger stand.
...But somewhere, we took a wrong turn, and ended up going to wrong way. It wasn't so bad, though. There was a tiny little driveway to turn around in, and we were only a few diozen feet off our intended course.
...But then, suddenly, the truck started making this horrific noise: Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap... It sounded like a piece of cardboard was slapping against the pavement as we were driving. But it was too rhythmic to be THAT...
We pulled over. I checked the front driver's-side tire. Nothing. So we kept driving, looking for a burger stand. "Hey," said Jake, "why don't we drive all the way around route 101! We'll see the whole peninsula!"
"With that NOISE??? You're kidding me, right?"
But Jake wasn't kidding; he was hyper. I insisted we have another look at the tires. So we pulled into a tiny little grocery store, and I had another look. Sure as hell, there was a huge nail, complete with a washer, sticking out of the tire. I poked it.
"I don't think driving 101 would be a very good idea today," I said. Jake agreed.
So, down the road we flew, like banshees, trying to make it back to Shelton before the tire could have a chance to blow.
...But then it blew anyway. Six miles outside of Shelton, which, we had been informed inside the grocery store, was the closest town with a tire repair store. We were really out in the boonies when we hit that nail, though. Making it almost all the way to Shelton was pretty badass.
"How did we pick up a nail out in the middle of the WILDERNESS?" I asked.
"I think we got it when we turned into that driveway..."
"So... now what?"
Jake already had the tire jack and crowbar out out the back of the truck. "We've got that spare," he said.
This is the second time Jake and I have had a tire blow out on us -- in the past six months. Less than that, actually. So we took it in to a tire place, which told us that our tires were hopelessly worn, and needed immediate replacement. Three of the tires were new. The one with the nail in it was the very last old one.
Of course, the car jack didn't work...
...Like, at all...
So, we knocked on the door of a quaint little house near our dead vehicle. From inside, a cockatiel announced our presence. I got a good feeling. Cockatiels kick ass.
So, the man of the house came out and let us use his car jack -- a special magic hydraulic one, that even *I* could use. We got the tire fixed. It was well past six in the evening, and we still hadn't gotten food. The sky was freakishly darker now.
Not sixty seconds after we'd fixed the tire and stepped back into the truck, the rain began. And once the rain begins here, it doesn't really end until May or June. You get breaks of a few days once in awhile, but those are so few and far between.
So, we had hamburgers at the A & W in Shelton, and went home.
...in the rain.
~Helena*