Jumper Cables, Surfboards, and Army Men

We wake up in the middle of the woods with a surfboard, jumper cables, & little toy army guys, what did we do the night before?] A very boring story but its what "happened"


Our first adventure to the ocean wasn't long lived. We had rented a car from some no name company. The man who gave us the vehicle smelled of Bratwurst and cigars, and let me remind you that it was not good sausage. The car looked like a hybrid, oh no not gas/electric or flexifuel, but a hybrid between a toy VW bus and a real car. It's quite difficult to describe. I liken it to how the Russians would make cars modeled after others and give them big Russian names. These cars would often have similar looks, but be far cheaper in construction.
Carbon copy and on our way.
The trip was to only take us about 2 hours. The road between Seattle and Ocean Shores is full of straight shots, long winding roads, slow zones, fast zones, and everything in between. "Why does the car sound like a lawn mower?" you asked. I shrugged my shoulders, thinking in the back of my head "I hope its not a two stroke." It took us about 5 hours to get there. We drove right up onto the beach, the fog was just rolling in. I had hoped that the trip wouldn't have taken so long so that we would have had some more daylight. We took it for what it was. A beautiful ride, amazing scenery, and great company.

We parked the "bucket", as we started to call it, up by a siren post and started to beach comb. The waves were crashing about, a brilliant deafness they caused. I had been playing in the sand a bit, you approached me and held out your hand. There were 5 little army men, covered in seaweed and muck. You seemed gleeful that you liberated them on the shores of Washington. They must have had a night incursion planned, but you foiled their plans. The objective was way to far up the beach head. We laughed a bit and started to walk towards a fire. 7 people sat around the fire, laughing and carrying on. Surfer types, sans the southern cali "dude" accent. They offered to share their fire with us. We just sat there chatting with everyone. It was getting late and we excused ourselves from the fire. Walked back to the bucket and drove to a local pub. It seemed to be full of the old locals. Crikey hours we spent in there. We should have found a place to stay, but we let adventure take us. One of our surfer friends entered the pub with his Board. He asked around if anyone had a ride, as his had just ditched him. The locals knew him but were all too tipsy to drive anywhere. I agreed to give the guy a lift. You seemed apprehensive, but I assured you that everyone knew him and he wasn't going to murder us. Besides, he's taking a huge risk riding in the bucket. We drove and drove, and finally ended up out in the woods, a surfboard sticking out the window. It seemed this man lived in the woods with his other friends, which were already drinking when we arrived. I asked them why they didn't give their friend a ride. One told me that they switch off monthly leaving someone on the beach. We had a beer with the guys, chatted a bit, and then decided to leave. We got about a mile down the dirt road when our car stalled. I hopped out, looked for some cables but all I found was a stripped, taped, set that looked like it was used to jump sherman tanks.
Instead of fretting, you told me not to worry about it. We hopped in the back, looked up at the filtered night sky, and passed the night away. We woke to find the surfboard leaned against the car, the toy soldiers had created a bunker in the side of my leg, and the half eaten jumper cables, hung upon the head rests of our seats.
yawwwwn.