Everyone has their traditions and the Lyle Household is no different (well… relatively speaking. I don’t know if we’re what you would consider “normal”). Anyway, one of our traditions dates back to when we lived in Pullman, Wa.
For those who don’t know where I’m talking about, it’s better known as Washington State University, because that’s basically all Pullman is. We were “locals” though, living in a house off-campus all year ’round. That meant that, during the school year, we were amongst the population of 25,000 that occupied Pullman. During the summer, we became part of the 5,000 who didn’t vacate the premesis for their parents’ houses. Suffice to say, summer was nice and quiet.
Despite being a stock photo, this is actually a barn that sits outside of Pullman. It’s a landmark for those driving back into town. “Oh, there’s that barn! Only ten more miles!”
Before Mr. Lyle and I got married, we would take long visits back to Olympia over the summer to see our families, since both our families lived there. (After we got married, I worked full-time so summer vacations became more of an orchestrated thing and not a “What do you want to do this week? Road trip? Road trip!” type thing). The drive from Pullman to Olympia is roughly 350 miles. Given the speed limits, that takes about 6 hours.
I started doing this drive before I started dating Mr. Lyle, back when I lived in the dorms. I would drive back home every Christmas and Thanksgiving holiday, as well as Spring Break and for the summer. I was very familiar with the drive to the point where, despite being in the middle of a damned sea of hills and wheat fields, I knew exactly where I was based on a particular curve in the road. I drove it in a blanket of fog once and knew exactly how the road was going to turn despite not being able to see more than a car’s length in front of me.
I digress… what was I getting at here?
Oh yes! Traditions!
Do I really need a caption for this one? I think it speaks for itself.
So, the very first time I drove this stretch of land, my mother was in the car with me. We were caravaning so I could bring my new car to school with me; I was too busy talking to my mom and hoping my dad wasn’t judging my driving from their car behind me. This was a week after I got back from my Australia trip so I spent the entire time telling my mom about my adventures. I didn’t pay too much attention to the vehicles around me.
My tradition started the very next trip, when my then-boyfriend-now-ex and I were driving back to the Westside for Thanksgiving. We were driving along, no one else on the road for as far as we could see, when we were essentially hit by a gust of wind that blew what looked like hay onto the windshield.
“Was that hay?” Mr. Ex asks.
“It looked like hay,” I reply. We glance around. We’re not exactly in hay-growing territory but there’s some horses so maybe it just blew over from their field- There’s scattered hay all over the road… wtf?
So, we keep driving, noting the abundance of scattered hay. A head of us the road dips down toward a gorge and the Columbia River, obscuring the road from view. As we start our descent, lo! There is a truck and it is loaded with hay.
Oooh… right. That explains it.
At the time I shrugged it off as unimportant. Naturally there would be transport of hay from Eastern Washington toward the Westside. Little did I know how important this hay truck would be.
I drove back and forth from Pullman probably at least six times a year between 2003 and 2009. Each and every time, I would see at least one hay truck actively transporting hay. It became a sign of a good voyage. If I didn’t see one for the first couple hours, I’d get a little nervous that I wouldn’t see my good-luck charm. But I’d always see one by the time we got to Snoqualmie Pass. This same phenomenon happens on the drive between Boise and Olympia, which we’ve done probably around eight or ten times (individual drives, not round trips… one hay truck per round trip is terrible… and has never happened.)
This past weekend, I went to Portland to visit Mr. Lyle while he’s away at his training thingie. This was my first time driving from Boise to the Westside by myself. It’s spring time with decent weather so I didn’t think much of the trip. I saw 11 hay trucks on my way to Portland and 6 on my way home. Plus more trains than I’ve seen in a very long time, and I watch a lot of Thomas and Friends.
That said, there are a couple rules to using hay trucks as your travel charm.
1.) It has to be an 18-wheeler, at least. Some states allow “Road Train” trucks, which are 3-bed length and usually have more wheels than the standard 18-wheeler. I saw a couple 3-bed hay trucks on this last trip, but they still just count as a single truck.
“Road Train” but not carrying hay as far as we can tell.
2.) It must be actively transporting the hay. This means that if you see one unloading hay or being loaded with hay, it doesn’t count. It has to be in transit. The exception to the ‘transit’ rule is if you see one at a rest-stop. Those count. Hay truck drivers have to pee, too, people.
3.) If the hay is covered, but you can see that it is hay because there is hay poking out underneath the covering, you can count it. But only if you’re positive that it is, indeed, a Ninja Hay Truck.
4.) If the truck is empty but was obviously a hay truck due to remnant hay scattered on the bed, it does not count. It has to be full of hay. Otherwise, it isn’t a hay truck, it’s just a dirty truck.
5.) It does not have to be on the highway or on the road you’re on to count. So long as it’s driving somewhere, or not being unloaded/loaded, you can count them if you can see them. Overpasses or roads that parallel the freeway are just fine.
6.) If you’re getting desperate and haven’t seen one yet, you may tentatively count a flat-bead hauling a stack of hay but it must be a full layer, not just a couple bales.
I’s gots some hays!
However! If you do pass a real hay truck later on, you have to relinquish the flat-bed replacement; it will no longer count toward the total.
That’s about it! For journeys longer than a day, the count is cumulative.
I told you we’re not normal.
Babble