Needless to say, the drive was now sickening and dangerous. Why dangerous? Well, I smoke, so I kept both windows rolled down, so I would not blow myself up. Then the itching started. Actually, it was more of a burn. The gasoline in the waistband started burning and was forming a beautiful crimson rash on my belly. So, there I am, stinking, smoking, with my shirt rolled up enough to let the air soothe my burning belly.
I was just starting on a migraine headache, but I thought I would be fine because I was nearing the turnoff to get to our campsite. As I rounded the bend, the road was blocked off completely, and traffic was being routed around the mountain another way--a way that I had no idea of where it would lead to. It was a pretty nice drive until the truck engine started messing up. It choked and spit, and finally, with one last breath, it sighed and just stopped. So, there I sat, realizing that absolutely no one knew where I was because of the detour.
A bee came flying into the truck and I guess the stink made it irritated, and it started doing this dive-bombing thing to me. Finally, I jumped out of the truck and let the bee have it to himself. When the bee flew out, I rolled up the window. There I sat, completely angry, flicking my Bic, not caring if I blew the truck and myself up. A road worker came by and pulled over. He swaggered over to the truck. "Little car trouble?" he asked. So, I told him what happened. Did he offer to look at the truck? Did he offer me a ride some place where I could get help? No, he offered to buy the truck on the spot. Well, this was tempting, to say the least. Sell Mike's truck, take the money and hitch a ride to Tahoe, gamble, get a nice room and make up some really stupid story when I finally saw him. On the other hand, his offer, or lack of it, made me angry. I said some kind of curse words to him, and off he drove, leaving me to sit there, flicking my Bic again.
I said some bad words, and told the truck if it didn't start that I would find a way to push it right off the cliff! Low and behold it did start. I drove for the longest time on this detour, worried about the next time that the truck would stop. Finally, it connected back to the correct highway, just before entering Tahoe, way past my turn off. The roadblock was gone, so I was able to go back and get to my turn off. By the time I rolled into camp, I just wanted to rip off my stinky clothes, take about five or fifteen aspirins, rub something on my rash, and drink a beer or two, because I knew my electrolytes were low. I can't even remember if I went fishing that weekend or not.
Oh, the problem with the truck? Well, after numerous times of it stopping suddenly, like it just quit getting gas, we found out what was wrong. There was a square piece of paper in the gas tank, and every so often it would float to where it would block the gas to the truck.
Needless to say that after this particularly weekend I felt that college burnout was a much more acceptable way of spending a weekend.
There are many more stories to come. Please feel free to write and comment or ask questions.
***********************************************************************Happy Hunting
Doris
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