If you don’t have a kid get yourself one or four. Whatever. If you see no kids on the horizon adopt . . . or borrow a kid from me if you are really in a pinch. If you’ve decided not to have kids reconsider. Now, they aren’t really cost effective and sure they demand things of you non-stop but ask yourself “Do I like paying tickets?” If the answer to that question is no, consider a kid (or don’t speed). Those are your options.
The Onemuleteam crew headed to the north/central Oregon coast this weekend to celebrate the eldest kid’s birthday. Things were going as uneventfully as a drive can go with two adults and four children filling a club cab to the brim when I saw the most dreaded of sights in the rearview. “Balls.”
Once introductions were over and pleasantries exchanged, Mr. State trooper got down to business. Why was I going so fast? Hmm . . . 68 mph in a 55 zone and then 50 mph in a 40, let me mull that one over for a minute . . . (It was dark and I couldn’t see him back there).
Genuinely surprised, I mentioned that I have oversize tires that do mess with my gauge some but not enough to account for that difference. I also explained that I had left my driver’s license in my fishing gear that was not in the truck anymore and that my proof of insurance was nowhere to be found. Onemuleteam looked dead prior to arrival.
With the meager information I gave him, the state trooper confirmed that I have a generally excellent driving record and am insured. He either pitied me with my cargo of four children, felt bad for the ass-chewing he figured I was inevitably about to receive from Onemulette or simply deduced my money was better spent feeding the small army in the back of the cab that was seemingly multiplying through a new process known as multi-cellular asexual reproduction or maybe it was a combination of those factors but he let me go with a couple words of warning, ’slow down they’re lookin’ in Lincoln City too.’
At this point, the youngest had conclusive evidence that I have no idea what I am doing behind the wheel and the rest of the trip I was treated to a speed/speed limit play by play. ‘Your going 29 . . . Your going 31 . . . speed limit 30 . . . your going 54 . . . speed limit 55,’ and so on. Thanks.
I also noticed that I share something in common with your run-of-the-mill Californian–I’m geographically challenged. From my southcentral-centric position in Lane County everything north of Waldport feels like the north coast to me despite everything south of Lincoln City being more accurately described as central coast. Can someone please explain to me how the hell San Francisco is in northern California . . . nevermind, I just explained it myself.
Other quick observations: The Oregon Coast Aquarium is pretty cool; this site should be called Two Mule Team because Shelly can be pretty darned stubborn (she wanted Starbucks but they were out of soymilk and refused to drink anything from Fast Lane Coffee despite having been talking about how she wanted some coffee for the past hour); the Alsea is awesome; oh, and D River might not be the world’s shortest, but it’s pretty darn close.
Here are a few pics from the trip:
