Day Eleven: California! (is good to the homeless)

We wake to rain. It never ends. Our car leaves the campground on Oregon's coast at 6am (really this time) without paying our mandatory $15--cheapest place to put a tent on the ground on all of Oregon's coastline, screw that--and it drives until it needs its last tank, which, unfortunately, has to be filled in Oregon.

You can't fill you own tank in Oregon. You can't even swipe your card. Some schmuck comes to your window and does something that most people don't mind, and others even enjoy (at times): he pumps your gas. What a lame law. More importantly, gas is more expensive so it can pay for their pumpers' salaries, and you are expected to give a tip. Well, the only gratuity our pumpers got was the ability to be in our presence, because we don't have the dough to pass out to every bum that can hold a handle down.

Still raining. Then we hit the California border, and it was like coming to the promised land: sunshine. Kid you not, the sun was shining within 20 miles of the Cali border. Oregon? HA! what a lame state...then came the Redwoods. Giant pillars of living tissue that tower over our insignificant, short-lived existences. They are old, they are big, they have seen more than we can ever hope to see, and all in a quiet reserve that can only be found in...well, trees. They were cool, we drove through one, it was also cool.

Then the brakes in the car gave way. Completely. It was overloaded by 1000+ pounds, was being driven fast, and was going through the mountains. The pads melted completely off. All we could hear was caliper-on-rotor grinding, and it was not the pleasant kind of grinding. So the trip temporarily stopped in Ft. Bragg, CA., to get the rotor replaced. All was not lost, nay, all was gained! The beach was at our disposal, wi-fi Internet and beds were found at my dad's credit card's disposal, and showers were had by all. We got food and beer, drank and ate, hit the beach, hit eachother, then hit the sack...all-in-all a good day.