We didn't have any more coffee, but we had one jug of water and a few burgers left over from the day before. At this point, we were a little smelly - it had been two days since our last shower, and it was started getting really, really hot. Unbeknownst to us, a record-breaking heat wave had begun the day we started our camping trip. We were used to the heat, but it was really getting oppressive.
During our camping preparations, RetroMan had made this really cool shower thingy. It just required electricity, which required the generator, which had hardly any gas because we thought it was safer to transport it that way, which we hadn't had a chance to get gas for, because our truck was on the verge of a total break down.
But we knew we'd be back in shape soon, as the Dealership escort would be there any minute, and we'd get on with our plans.
10 o'clock came and went. So did 11 and 12. At 1 o'clock we decided the escort had forgotten about us or forgotten where we lived. Either that, or the Dealership fixed the truck, sold it, and left us for dead. We realized there was only one person on earth that knew exactly where we were, and that was the Dealership escort.
As it happened, our nearest neighbor was a mile away. We discussed RetroMan going there to call the Dealership since my cell phone was useless. We had never met our neighbor, but we knew he was a prominent member of the Community. For the sake of this story and his privacy, we'll call him Mr. PMOC.
Though we were embarrassed by our circumstances, we decided we needed some help, and got the Yammahopper ready. We figured it was nearly out of gas after our fun the day before. The little gas we had was in the generator, so RetroMan got a plastic cup, tilted the generator, and filled it 1/2 way.
On the way to the Yammahopper, the cup literally disintegrated in his hands. Apparently plastic and gas don't mix.
Note to self: Make sure you bring a full can of gas if you are going to rely on it to make everything at Camp work.
The only thing we had left to use was the empty bottle of Champagne we'd bought to celebrate our first night of camping. Very carefully, RetroMan poured what was left of the gas in the generator into the tiny bottle opening. This was no small feat, as the generator was very heavy and the bottle opening was very small.
He put it in the Yammahopper and was off.
About an hour later, he returned and told me this story.
The moped made it to their house and I parked on the side. I went up the side steps to the porch, around to the front door and saw that the front steps were blocked off. Worried that they had just poured concrete on the porch or something, I jumped off and went around the back. I could see a woman working through the window. I shouted and waved my arms to get her attention. She looked at me and then went right on working. So I started whistling.
At that point, the back door slowly opened and a man stepped out, presumably Mr. PMOC. I introduced myself and explained our situation, which, even to me sounded too bizarre to be true. Mr. PMOC asked me for the Dealership phone number and dialed it on his cell phone, which promptly died. He yelled to his teenage son to go get a land line, redialed the number, and handed me the phone. This entire time he didn't smile or say a word, though he did offer to take me to the Dealership. I spoke with a receptionist, who said the truck wasn't ready yet - they needed one more day, and they would pick me up in the morning.
At that point, a little wiener dog ran at me from inside the house, wagging its tail, the only one that was glad to see me. I petted her, got back on the Yammahopper, and told Mr. PMOC I was worried the dog would follow me back to our property. Don't worry, he said, the dog always stops at the end of the driveway.
Sure enough, that dog got to the end of the driveway and kept on coming with me, its tongue hanging out and its little belly almost draggin' on the ground. I was ready to turn around to head back, but thankfully the teenager appeared on his ATV, scooped the little thing up in his hands, and headed back home.
I can only imagine what Mr. PMOC must have thought talking to a man who hadn't showered or shaved in two days arriving on a 1970 Yammahopper claiming that his cell phone had no reception and that he needed to use Mr PMOC's phone to call a car dealership that was fixing his car but had forgotten to pick him up.
So let's recap.
- No cell phone reception
- No vehicle
- A Yammahopper with hardly any gas
- A loaf of bread and some ketchup
- No coffee
- A headache because we haven't had any coffee
- A potty
- One disgusting roll of toilet paper
- No Potty Tent
- 1/2 jug of water
- No shower in two days
- The only person who knows where we are is at a car dealership
- The only neighbor we know thinks we're homeless and looking for something to steal
It was hotter than Hell, and we just sat there looking at each other, and waited for morning to come.
Please return for Day 4 of The Best Worst Vacation Ever.
We Lived To Tell About It