Once upon a time there was a girl named Patty Lauren who had never been to the beach in the summer. She took herself one year after Christmas, but she was waiting for the day she could slip on a bikini and run into the Atlantic under a bright, warm sunshine. This girl was lucky enough to have a day off work for Easter Break and on a whim asked her adventurous friend E if she wanted to go to the beach for the weekend. So the two girls made plans and schemed activities for several weeks until the day came. Beach Day!

These two girls work very hard, but on this particular Thursday they were very antsy at work and seemed to have a difficult time concentrating. They chugged coffee and cracked jokes. They announced hours ticking down to 5pm. They (or maybe just one of them) hopped around their office in sweet anticipation of the closing bell to change clothes and vamoose.

Five o’ clock came and with it a heavy sprinkling of early summer rain. This was not exactly how they had hoped their beach weekend would start out, especially since they had planned on hauling their bikes on the back of their rental car for the 6 hour drive. But, it was BEACH DAY and this day no matter what happened would only be considered as “adventurous”. There would be no disasters for these girls.

Their first adventure started when they went to pick up their rental car. A Ford Focus was what they were going to be given (or something like it) – however, the only FF they had was a hatchback. Which would have been fine if they didn’t have their bikes. The bike rack. Yep. No go. What should have been a 10 minute quick pick up turned into almost an hour of frustr- sorry, adventure.

“We can give you a Volkswagon Beetle,” said the desk attendant.
“Oooh, let’s get the Beetle!!!” Patty Lauren exclaimed and clapped her hands together. “I can see us now cruising down the beach in our cute little car…”
“There’s no place for the bike rack, Patty!” E said, laughing.
“Forget the bikes – ditch ’em. We can rent bikes. Let’s get the Beetle.”

Clearly someone was having dreams of grandeur. After agreeing on a mid-size, more practical vehicle the girls were given a Volkswagon Jetta. A red one! Yeah, buddy. This was the next best thing. Although that red Mustang convertible across the lot called out to the them in sweet hushed tones. Alas, the Jetta would have to do.

 

How many females does it take to figure out a car is keyless entry? You guessed it – two. Here in this story we have two smart, well educated, raised in good families, and gainfully employed women who CANNOT FIGURE OUT HOW TO PUT A KEY IN A CAR. Let me tell you – no amount of jabbing a key into a non existent hole is going to start a car. Thankfully, it was soon discovered to have a Start/Stop button. In this party’s defense, the car didn’t seem that new. Our heroines only thought keyless entry was for newer more sporty vehicles. This would be the only time during their first day’s excursion that duct tape would not enter the picture.

 

Once their sporty-non-sporty vehicle was packed with everything two ladies would need for a weekend at the beach… oh, wait. Speaking of packing everything two ladies would need…

“I brought candles!”
“This is not a romantic getaway…”
“Who knows! It could be…”
-crickets-

Anyway, back to the story. The girls were off… Patty Lauren took the first shift to drive. And, boy was this car made for her. Zippy all the way. What felt like 75 was actually about 95. Whoops. About 20 minutes after their first adventure, the second ‘adventure’ reared its head.

“Oh no, my bike is coming off,” E said, peering through the back windshield with a surprisingly calm expression.
“WHAT! Are you SURE?!
“Yep. Yep, it’s definitely hanging off.”

We will attribute E’s laid back demeanor to this near fatal disaster to growing up in the West. All Patty Lauren could imagine was bikes flying off into the cars behind them and killing someone. Okay, maybe there is some active imagination play going on, but still. It’s a real possibility!

Emergency lights were thrown on and the girls slid into the next exit. A definite rearrangement was going to need to occur to remedy this situation. They weren’t even into their drive an hour and the bikes were having their own party. As your narrator of this story, I should mention now our character E has a real affinity for bungee cords.

“It’s too bad you don’t have any duct tape,” Patty Lauren said – jokingly.

“Oh I do! I have duct tape in the trunk. We can duct tape it on to the rack for extra security.”

Apparently, E also has a deep love for duct tape as well. In fact, her trunk contains every piece of equipment you could possibly need on a road trip. She’s kind of like the female MacGyver. So, not only are the bikes strapped into their rack but they are also bungee corded and now they are duct taped into the rack. Patty Lauren is watching the people stare at the two of them.

“We’re like sitting ducks. Someone is going to think we’re the dumbest people and follow us to the beach and murder us.”

Too many crime dramas. Once the bikes were secured (for the second time), the ladies were off again. It was about this time the topic of Cowboy Churches came up.

“It’s always been on my bucket list to visit a Cowboy Church,” E said with the same enthusiasm Patty Lauren would speak of a new pair of shoes.
“A WHAT?”
“What? You’ve never heard of a Cowboy Church?!” She was genuinely shocked.
“Um, no. What does that even mean?”

Enter Wikipedia and E’s vibrant description of what a Cowboy Church is. Someone missed their calling in some type of persuasive salesmanship career. Some Googling and searching led the girls to find out there was a Cowboy Church in their town. While they debated the “legitimacy” of a Cowboy Church in their area they decided plans must be made to attend. Look for that blog sometime in the near to late future.

Macon. Oh, Macon Macon Macon. There’s not a lot to say about it except you better have your running shoes on and I don’t recommend wearing a full length fur coat there unless you want to be followed down the street by some lovely gentlemen who think you have “the jams.”

Not far from Macon our two star characters hit another adventure on the road.

“My bike is hanging off again,” E said.

The way she communicates this information is like saying, “I like peanut butter” not “Some heavy piece of EQUIPMENT is about to fly off our car and you are already going 20 miles over the speed limit.”

“You’re not serious.”
“Yep.”
“Are you SURE?”

De ja vu. So, the girls did what any smart women would do traveling alone… they pulled off onto an unknown exit to fix the situation. One would think if there is a well-lit gas station that equals safety. Uh uh. Think again, my friends. The girls pulled up at this particular station and realized very quickly this was not the best place for a God-knows-how-long-this-is-going-to-take bike fix. But, nature called… Now, Patty Lauren was not sure if this was a normal occurrence in South Georgia but if men playing what looked to be slot machines inside of the gas station was on the up-and-up she was ready to get back home. Was it a slot machine? Was it porn? Was it some type of underworld gambling ring? We’ll never know because as soon as the girls were in, they were out and down the street at a “safer” location.

“Listen, if anyone comes over to us I think we just need to say screw the bikes and get in the car and leave,” Patty Lauren said, wondering if maybe her number was meant to be snatched up somewhere in Macon on a side road.

This time not only was E’s bike loose but it had busted through the duct tape and also broken one of the bike straps. This sucker was a beast. A half roll of duct tape, bike switch, and more intricate bungee cording they were back on the road.

The last half of this tale is rather uneventful. There was lots of snackage and some snoozes, but lots of oohs and aahs when that beautiful South Carolina sign welcomed them to a gateway of Palm Trees and the familiar breeze of ocean land.

 

This will not be the last adventure our heroines encounter, so check back soon…