Saved by a Duck at the Beach.
If you’ve never been to the Puget Sound region of Washington, you should schedule a trip. My specific destination was Port Orchard. It’s a quaint area across the inlet from Bremerton. This was my first visit beyond Seattle and adventure in a Fiat 500. Our tiny means of transport reminded me of being in a classic bumper car. A youthful fun engulfed me while riding shotgun around the many twists and turns. Our jellybean chariot meandered through the lush coastal forests, up and down hilly terrain, and across bridges lending to beautiful waterscapes. My niece, Telly, was an excellent chauffeur; her digital navigator was very handy.
We spent a day roaming around Bainbridge Island, then headed to the Pacific Coast the following morning. After checking out Long Beach, a strange town of curiosities where carnivals go to retire, we headed south to Cape Disappointment. I had to get my lighthouse fix. Eventually, we ended up at a beach near Seaview. The afternoon had all the makings of a perfect late-fall day and the promise of a striking sunset.
Unaware that we could drive onto the beach, we parked alongside the access road and walked toward the seashore. Taking our own sweet time, we strolled up and down the beach, conversating about this and that. It was magical and relaxing. The sun was setting at the same leisurely speed, so we came to rest on a large piece of driftwood and waited for the show to reach its finale.
As the sun continued to drop, so did the temperature. Our perfect moment was fading as well. A stroke of genius solved the problem. We would drive the Fiat onto the beach and watch the sunset from a heated car. The brilliance of our two minds led us back down the access road and into the car—two modern-day problem solvers solving a problem.
Telly pulled away from the side of the road and headed toward the sun. Our destination was only moments away when a large pickup truck rounded the corner from the beach, taking up all the space on the firm side of the road. To avoid a collision, she steered to the right, and we gradually came to a stop. Confused by her decision to park in the middle of the road, I suggested she keep going.
“I am,” she responded.
“We can’t park here. Keep going,” I insisted.
“I am!”
Baby Blue wasn’t going anywhere. Finally, the courage came to exit the vehicle and survey the situation. Our tiny tires on 15-inch rims were buried in the sand. Feeling strong, I recommended Telly drive, and I would push the car. The physics of the situation seemed promising: a determined woman pushing a light car out of loose sand. It felt like we were making progress until we realized we were burying the tires even deeper. Physics may have failed us, but not our imaginations. Out came the floor mats for traction. No luck. Pushing from behind. No luck. Hoping for help from passing motorists. No luck.
Then it happened. A man and wife in a white pickup truck pulled up behind the car. Our knights on a white horse had come to save the day. After assessing the situation, he checked beneath the back of the vehicle for towing options. Not an easy feat since the bottom of the car was only inches from the ground. A plan was formulated. Out of the truck bed toolbox came the towing rope and everything else he needed to hook the Fiat to his truck.
At this point, my niece noticed his Oregon Ducks license plate. With a huge smile, she exclaimed how happy her husband would be to know a fellow Duck rescued us—a moment of pure poetry.
After they pulled us to safety, our good Samaritans rode off into the sunset. Literally.
The beach, the waves, and the sunset may have been the main attraction, but the kindness of those “webfooted” strangers was the highlight of the day.
