Wild Rides

I was driving a friend's pickup truck in the rain the other day, hauling Ashley's washer and dryer to their new owners. I chose Bigelow Gulch because I didn't feel like tackling the freeway. As I peered out intently I remembered two other wild, scary rides.

The first was many years ago when Paul was in high school. For some reason I never did understand (a friend of a friend of the family was going to make it run?) they had to haul a Volkswagen bug from Union City to Redwood City, and in a fit of mental illness I agreed to basically sit in the bug and "steer" it. Which means that Paul and Ben were in the front car and I was alone in the VW they were towing.

The deal was that if I needed them to stop I would flash my lights and/or honk my horn. It wasn't until we were careening down the road that I found out that: a) the horn didn't work, and b) the lights didn't work. I tried slewing from side to side, I tried braking, I tried everything I could think of. Nothing worked.

That was one of the most frightening things I have ever done.

We got where we were going in one piece, by the way. I don't know how.

The second was when Rachel and Tim asked me to help them move from Tacoma to Sacramento. I thought that meant that I would be packing and unpacking the truck, but no, it meant that I was DRIVING the truck. In the rain. And the snow. And towing one of their cars. I was terrified, especially going over the mountains that separate Oregon from California.

We got where we were going in one piece, by the way. I don't know how.