Saturday was very nearly a disaster.
We left almost on time and made it all the way to the Dunnigan rest stop for a little pee-break, but when we tried to hit the road again, the monster truck of power wouldn't start up. We had a moment of shock; fortunately our traveling companions, C. and C. (who were driving a Miata) have AAA, so we called and headed for the shade. A half hour later an impressively ancient and huge tow truck arrived. The driver found that he also couldn't start the truck, and we decided to let him tow us to Davis, which was relatively close by; if the truck could be fixed that day, we could continue on; if not, we wouldn't be too far from the city.
The ride to Davis was a hoot; the driver kept telling us how much he hated that particular tow truck, how nervous it made him. I studied the dashboard: the speedometer and the odometer were on 0, and the oil and fuel gauges said empty. Ken and I pondered the ridiculousness of breaking down in the tow truck that's towing your broken truck, but I tried to just concentrate on the really big bugs that were hitting the windshield.
When we got to the Toyota dealership we were dusty, tired, and we would have been starving if it hadn't been so hot... After interminable waiting, the guy from the dealership came over, got into the truck, and it started right up. and again. and again. Oh, boy.
We got our shit together and went down the road to get food. C and C. were not behind us. We drove back only to find that an SUV had backed into their little red car. (The woman said, "Your car is so small! How am I supposed to see it?" C. countered with, "What if a four year old were standing there? 'Your child is so small, how was I supposed to see it?'") Fortunately, there were only scratches.
Next, the truck wouldn't start again. Three of us got behind and pushed, while Ken popped the clutch and brrrrrrmm, it fired right up.
We felt pretty damn empowered, but at this point I started to wonder if I should give any credibility to the omens that seemed to be all around us. For the entire rest of the trip, the truck started without a hitch.
How do you explain superstitions? If something horrible had happened (if Mt. Shasta had erupted, if we'd all been sucked up into a tornado, z.B.), then one could say we'd been warned by the universe. Since nothing grim or even mildly bad happened, I'd have to say that the universe had better things to do last weekend than torture me.
We made it to our campsite, had dinner, and were asleep by midnight... I ended up with a really bad sunburn on my shoulders. Maybe I just wasn't looking at the right signs all day.