It's colder, and targeting a likely destination to sleep has become much more important, not to mention a wee bit trickier. This isn't exactly tourist season, so many of the State Park campgrounds have been roped off. The cool weather and healthy bear populations made the tent virtually useless, and since the day I arrived in California, I've been hard-pressed to find a decent WalMart for a free nights' sleep.
Taking the crazy, windy Route 1 out of San Francisco and coming back to 101 in Leggett, I investigate the best campgrounds on my atlas. Some I just pass by; those barren side-by-side RV lots, even on the beach, are always in the less appealing sides of town, and even the secluded State Parks get crammed lots with large tents and larger parties underneath. I was not in the mood to be bothered by a drunken outlaw party.
The road through the forest, and what became the Avenue of the Giants, seemed to get even more windy as the afternoon progressed, and the car was acting funny.
What kind of funny?
Funny. Like, funny noises, accompanied by a funny banging sound. And it was funny that this only occurred at deceleration or if the gas pedal was set too firmly. Which was funny because this road forebade any sort of smooth driving. The posted speed limit went from 45 to 25 every 5 minutes. Yeah that was funny.
But the funniest thing was, I absolutely felt as if the drivers-side wheel was about to fall off my car. Sorry, 'fly' off, would be a better term.
Of course I stopped the car to investigate; at first every ten minutes, then every five, which squirreled its way to every two... Thank Goodness these crazy Californy roads have a turn-out or trailhead parking every few miles!
On the second or third 'check' I confirmed that my wheel was about to fly off the car. One of the lug-studs on my front drivers-side tire had completely twisted and broke off, and the remaining four lug-nuts were two threads away from freedom.
Lucky me, I do not happen to have a lug-wrench or T-bar in my vast array of tools and gadgets. I did, however, have an old leatherman a friend had given me for my trip... So I could drive for two minutes, pull over and tighten the lugs, then drive two minutes more - all in an effort to find some suitable place to park and give up for the night.
Finally, pulled over on the Avenue of the Giants and a stones throw away from Route 101, I scrawl a note to passersby - set up my customized velcro window curtains - and fall asleep.
Very interesting dreams that night; mostly being discovered and awoken by some ornery old sheriff who proceeds to give me a hard time. He didn't find my situation very funny.
Of course I wasn't actually bothered by anyone - but being preoccupied with this idea I couldn't exactly 'sleep in' either. So up I was, jacking up the car and taking the tire off to inspect the damage.
Only a few cars have passed, and one small pickup turns around to see if I need help. I tell him "I don't need much help, but I could use a second opinion." Apparently lug studs fail for everyone at one time or another, after a mechanic replaces or adjusts the tires and screws in the studs haphazardly. I didn't want to believe this was possible - the last people to touch my wheels were highly regarded as expert mechanics in Tempe, Arizona, and in the region as a whole. Hell, they ran their own radio talkshow! I guess everyone messes up.
Thankfully, my friend with the second opinion also had a lugwrench in his car, and pointed me towards the nearest Napa for the parts. He said it'd b fine to drive on - and it was. No more noises, no banging under my feet - the loose lug stud must have been whipping around in the wheel making a Godawful racket, and had since fallen into the road somewhere.
I arrived at Napa, and was soon the proud new owner of a lugwrench. Half tool and half weapon, I didn't mind throwing down the money. The Napa guys sent me a few more miles up the road to LeSchwab Tires, and after ten minutes and $20 I was ready to go.
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