There will be many more adventures... and in some ways, [readjusting to society, being stationary, and interacting on a regular basis with more people than myself and my husband] is just as much of an adventure. And yes, I felt the brackets were necessary to make that sentence understandable.
So hit-and-run.
We never did find the guy, but everything turned out just fine. Went to church, were fed by people, taken in and housed by the pastor for three nights, driven around town on errands, and finally driven to Klamath Falls to catch our train. It left early in the morning, so we rode over the night before, hoping to either stay with Weisses or find a couch to surf. Called a few times, couldn't get a hold of them, and finally gave up to go to the library.... where we were intercepted by Duane. 'Are you Lydia?' Ya. Those angels drove all around town looking for us, then loaded our stuff up and took us to their house. On the way they stopped and we got bike boxes. They fed us dinner, gave us a bed to sleep in, wine to drink, tv to watch, AND got up super early to drive us to the station.
Like I said. Angels.
Train was fun, and as always, both too short and too long. Got to Portland at 4ish, took forever to get our stuff put back together, and left around 530? maybe. Hit the library, but it was closing, so the getting-out-of-Portland part became interesting. We eventually found a map that gave us enough of an idea of the area to get out, and all was good. Rode up past a bunch of small towns that I can't remember, and eventually camped under a train bridge. We were woken up by a train going over said bridge at about 6 in the morning. We both thought we were going to die... it took a couple minutes to realize what it was.
Then we rode in the rain. Lots of it. Made it to Rainier, last stop in Oregon, and were looking at this ENORMOUS bridge, longer than the one in North Bend, when we were given a ride by a guy with a Ford Transport. Awesome car, more awesome dude. He took us to Walmart so we could buty a tarp. This venture turned into awesomeness as well... on our way out, asking for directions out of town (it's way beyond pitch black at this point, and it's raining like it's the equater), and a guy offered to let us camp in his backyard.
Took a shower, got my eardrums blasted by his kids, ate a brownie, had a fire.... good times. First time that happened all trip.
Biked through small town after small town on our way to Centralia... stopped to play on the train tracks and squish pennies, and we almost got hit by a train. Those things are sneakier than the tide. BUT we did squish some pennies.
So we're biking through Winlock, DEAD tired, scrounging change for coffee, and this nice gentleman strikes up a conversation. He leaves, we leave, and about 20 minutes later as we're stopping on the orad to pump tires, this truck pulls up behind us... with the same guy and his daughter. They took us home like happy little stray puppies, fed us, gave us showers, gave us a bed, movie privileges, coffee, beer, breakfast, AND a ride to Centralia the next morning. Merle and Kathleen... you guys were lovely. I do have to admit I was a bit terrified when we walked in, though. It was one of those insta-god-bush houses, where you step inside and think 'Fuck. We're going to horribly offend them inside of 3 minutes, and then we'll be back on the road.' But no... I was reminded once again that god-fearing, red-white-and-blue-loving, sarah-palin-reading couples can still be nice people. It's not what you do/think/believe... it's who/how you are.
Rode from Centralia to Tacoma, caught the bus to Seattle, biked to the treehouse, and the end.
Miah's got tons of interviews, I took up my old job doing jewelry, and things are looking good, for the most part.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Sunday, October 2, 2011
CRESCENT CITY DRIVERS SUCK
Jeremiah was hit by a car last night. He is thankfully ok, excepting some mild bruising, but the bike is not. Dickwad drove over his back wheel. Makes a nice taco shape now. About the same curve as a pringle. We're a bit stranded, but doing well.
So the adventure. We left Crescent City to bike down to Arcata/Eureka (to look for work and stay near the coast and redwoods), encountered a lot of rain and a large hill along with oncoming darkness, and then remembered that there was a city bus that went from Crescent City to Arcata. Being only a couple miles out, we decided to cruise back down the hill and catch the bus instead. Our previous encounters with this bus system had left a good impression - we were able to get from the state park to town, 10 miles, for 1.50 each. Figured the long trip would maybe cost 10 or 15 bucks at the most, but we were willing to pay it to get there and start turning in resumes.
It cost 25 each. Out of the question. So here we are at 830 on a Saturday night, soaked and frozen, contemplating cheap hotels rather than riding 5 miles to find camping. We priced a few and were on our way to another when we met Dickwad.
Coasting along the eastern sidewalk of S101 at pedestrian speeds, Miah 15 feet in front of me, passing the entrance to Jack in the Box. Dude comes cruising out of the parking lot going for a left turn... directly at Miah. Like he wasn't even there. So Miah swerved into the street to avoid him, and Dickwad -kept going-. Drove right into him, knocked him down into the street in a tangle of legs and bicycle, and continued over his rear tire. I was speechless, and Dickwad looked straight at me as he drove off without slowing a bit. Got his license and what the car looked like, filed a police report, and began strategizing. Poor bike wouldn't move at all; the tire's done for.
The funny part is that we ended up pitching 50 for a motel room within walking/carrying distance.... what we would have spent to get a ride 70 miles south.
Lessons here... trust your instincts, and don't trust Crescent City drivers.
Earlier, waiting for the bus, a truck rolled up to a light for a right turn; when the light turned red on him, he immediately swerved right and drove across the curb, into the park, down the sidewalk, and continued on his merry way. No brake lights; no hesitation. I hate this town.
BUT.
Since the library is closed Sunday/Monday, and we couldn't afford another night's lodging, we figured a church would be our best bet. So this morning we hauled all our stuff and the dead bike ten blocks to the United Methodist church and told them our predicament. They were sweethearts. We were driven to someone's house for lunch, I'm currently on the computer at the pastor's house, where she's letting us stay for the night, and we've been offered rides around town if we need to go to the food bank or bike shop or whatever. Also we got free coffee. And a bag of cheese. And pizza.
So now we're heading back to Seattle asap; this misadventure has dipped us under our monetary limit and we need to hightail it back to the safety net of jobs and familiar territory.
So the adventure. We left Crescent City to bike down to Arcata/Eureka (to look for work and stay near the coast and redwoods), encountered a lot of rain and a large hill along with oncoming darkness, and then remembered that there was a city bus that went from Crescent City to Arcata. Being only a couple miles out, we decided to cruise back down the hill and catch the bus instead. Our previous encounters with this bus system had left a good impression - we were able to get from the state park to town, 10 miles, for 1.50 each. Figured the long trip would maybe cost 10 or 15 bucks at the most, but we were willing to pay it to get there and start turning in resumes.
It cost 25 each. Out of the question. So here we are at 830 on a Saturday night, soaked and frozen, contemplating cheap hotels rather than riding 5 miles to find camping. We priced a few and were on our way to another when we met Dickwad.
Coasting along the eastern sidewalk of S101 at pedestrian speeds, Miah 15 feet in front of me, passing the entrance to Jack in the Box. Dude comes cruising out of the parking lot going for a left turn... directly at Miah. Like he wasn't even there. So Miah swerved into the street to avoid him, and Dickwad -kept going-. Drove right into him, knocked him down into the street in a tangle of legs and bicycle, and continued over his rear tire. I was speechless, and Dickwad looked straight at me as he drove off without slowing a bit. Got his license and what the car looked like, filed a police report, and began strategizing. Poor bike wouldn't move at all; the tire's done for.
The funny part is that we ended up pitching 50 for a motel room within walking/carrying distance.... what we would have spent to get a ride 70 miles south.
Lessons here... trust your instincts, and don't trust Crescent City drivers.
Earlier, waiting for the bus, a truck rolled up to a light for a right turn; when the light turned red on him, he immediately swerved right and drove across the curb, into the park, down the sidewalk, and continued on his merry way. No brake lights; no hesitation. I hate this town.
BUT.
Since the library is closed Sunday/Monday, and we couldn't afford another night's lodging, we figured a church would be our best bet. So this morning we hauled all our stuff and the dead bike ten blocks to the United Methodist church and told them our predicament. They were sweethearts. We were driven to someone's house for lunch, I'm currently on the computer at the pastor's house, where she's letting us stay for the night, and we've been offered rides around town if we need to go to the food bank or bike shop or whatever. Also we got free coffee. And a bag of cheese. And pizza.
So now we're heading back to Seattle asap; this misadventure has dipped us under our monetary limit and we need to hightail it back to the safety net of jobs and familiar territory.
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