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10/3/00 - 10/5/00: The Week in Moody/Wells
Tuesday, 10/3/00: Decided to take the Berts for a long walk to the beach. The motel's name, N'er Beach, might lead you to believe that it is short for "Near Beach," but after our walk, I'm sure it is meant to stand for "Never Beach."
An hour later, with me carrying Ernie in his bag and Chewie tucked under my arm, we arrive at the beach. I put Chewie down first and he proceeds to start licking sand, his favorite thing to do on beaches. Ernie won't come out of his bag so I have to tip it over until he slides out onto the sand. Once he is on the sand, he runs around contentedly.
After half an hour of walking barefoot on the shore, taking photos, yelling at Chewie to put his tongue back in his mouth and not drag it on the sand, getting surprised by a wave which splashed my pantslegs and scared Ernie out of his wits, I dusted the sand from my feet, put my shoes back on, and we were on our way.
Usually, I get an incredibly overwhelmed feeling of greatness when faced with the ocean. This time, I didn't feel that sense of awe. I think I was too busy wondering if there was a place to get a cold drink along the way, too busy looking at the houses along the shore and wondering if one of them was a restaurant.
A woman strolling along the beach confirmed what I feared. The nearest place to get a drink was back on US 1. An hour later, I was starving, thirsty, exhausted, so I ordered delivery: a pizza, a Greek salad, a plate of spaghetti and sauce, and a Root Beer, to my motel room. Perfect.
Wednesday, 10/4/00: Tried but failed to ride the bike with the Berts in their bag on my shoulder. Walked the bike down US 1. Bought more clam chowder at the Fresh Lobster place and sat outside on a bench to eat it. Walked to Brown's Texaco. The engine was hanging from a chain, and I had to take a picture. I was witnessing open-heart surgery on my RV. Thursday, 10/5/00: I've realized that I am watching too much television in the motel, and it is keeping me from being productive. I can't leave the Berts alone to go riding my bike, I can't seem to get motivated to work on my book because I have to watch "LA Law," "Magnum PI," "Murder, She Wrote," and "Law and Order" on A&E. I pulled myself away from the TV and walked the Berts to Brown's Texaco. The new engine was already inside the vehicle. I put the Berts in the back of the RV, bundled them in blankets, then went next door for a big breakfast. When I told the waiter about my predicament, he said "You don't have it next door, do you? That guy is crazy! He and his son! They are totally crazy." Then he proceeded to tell me some off-the-wall stories about the temper of Bruce Brown.
"We'll have it ready for you to go camping this weekend," said Bruce when I returned to his shop. "My wife will take you to the laundromat right now, if you need to go," Bruce offered. I stuffed my dirty clothes into my laundry bag and piled the Berts into their bag, and got into the back seat of their car. I decided that people in town each have had an experience with Bruce Brown based on their own behavior and attitude. How else could each person have such a different opinion about him?
While I was doing laundry, I noticed trolleys parking in the lot, so I went to investigate and found that they stop by every 15 minutes. When the laundry was done, I hopped onto a trolley and had a pleasant ride through the next town over, Ogunquit. I got off the trolley at Perkins Cove to take photos, then rode back to the laundromat where Bruce Brown's son came by to pick me up and deliver me back to my motel. Tomorrow, the prices at the motel went up, but the RV was going to be ready for camping. Could it be?
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