Has The Transmission Come Yet?
Even the best-planned vacation can go awry. Of course, this trip did not start out as a vacation. Vince worked as a realtor full-time. I worked part-time in my position with the California Council for the Social Studies.
I hope you will come away from this series with an appreciation for the role of vacation mishaps that slow you down and help you enjoy the trip. Nothing is perfect, especially when traveling, but there is always something to learn and enjoy along the way.
This series was edited in 2024. As a new blogger in 2013, I wrote all ten posts in the third person. My pictures had never been processed, and some were not compelling. It had great bones, and I wanted to preserve the story as a travelogue.
“Wherever I go, I’m watching. Even on vacation, when I’m in an airport or a railroad station, I look around, snap pictures, and find out how people do things.”
Richard Scarry
Vince remained in his Twilight Zone of Optimism for several more days after the truck’s transmission lost everything but first gear and reverse. The sun shone into our little palace on wheels early on Sunday morning. Vince was ready with activity suggestions before I awoke. The night before, when he went there to get the rental car, he scoped out Crescent City. Only sixteen miles north of Klamath, it bustled with history, restaurants, and internet and cellular service, which I needed for my work.
The smell of fresh coffee and rays of sunlight drove me from my warm bed. “Let’s go to Crescent City today,” Vince announced. There are lots of things to do, and I want to take you to breakfast.”
“That sounds good. Do you want to go check on your truck?”
Vince was the kind of guy that double-checked everything. He checked the bank account balance several times daily to ensure it hadn’t been hacked. He asked me about every check. Then he checked the credit card account and asked me about each charge. I knew he would want to go up to Crescent City to see if his truck was still sitting safely in the lot at the GMC dealer. He did.
“Looks like you enjoyed breakfast. There’s a famous lighthouse here,” he said as he sipped his coffee.
“I seldom get pancakes with all the trimmings.”
“Good thing. A woman can never be too skinny or too rich.”
“Well maintained, too, right?
“You know I meant that as a compliment.”
“Uh-huh, You should have the grace to blush. Let’s walk and take some pictures.”
Battery Park was huge but not as interesting as the jetty, pier, and lighthouse. To reach it, people crossed over the rocks, a stepping bridge across the mouth of a stream flowing into the ocean.
“Do you want to go across?” I asked.
“No, you need high boots unless you are prepared to get wet. Do you want to get wet?”
“Do you have anything else planned for the day?”
It wasn’t that I minded getting wet. In fact, I loved it – when I was 16.
I went kayaking in Monterey Bay with colleagues from work a few years before. We all wore wetsuits and sneakers. I didn’t realize that the boat would let in water. My only shoes got soaked, which I removed. When we went to a restaurant after landing, my team snuck me past the “No shoes, no shirt, no service,” sign. That uncomfortable memory cautioned me.
“No, thanks,” Although the hill and lighthouse called me, I resisted. Let’s walk out on the jetty.”
“It says it’s dangerous at all times. Do you want PG to be swept away by an ocean wave?”
When it comes down to it, we are both chickens. From there, we drove to the B Street Pier.
A young couple with their two dogs joined us on the boardwalk. One dog was a huge pit bull, the other a terrier, smaller than PG’s slight 9 pounds. They pranced side-by-side, looking like Mutt and Jeff.
Fisherpeople with empty poles dotted the boardwalk. A couple from Medford, Oregon, escaped the 100-degree heat to catch crabs in the bay. Several huge crustaceans lounged unsuspectingly in their blue plastic bucket.
Soon, it was time to leave Crescent City.
We headed south on Highway 101 towards Klamath and stopped to watch some beach fun. This young woman wearing a warm sweater did not mind getting her feet wet, and neither did her dog. The water temperature of the Pacific Ocean near Crescent City, CA, reaches 52 degrees in the fall, which is 10 degrees colder than near Santa Barbara at the same time.
We wanted to see the Trees of Mystery. We wound our way through the Redwood Highway back towards Klamath towards the mysterious trees, where yet another adventure awaited us.
We were told that work on the truck would start the next day. Or would it? Stay tuned.
Does your dog or pet have any phobias? How about you?
Marsha Ingrao - Always Write 
Your babbling is music to my ears. Please leave a comment!