We had been battling sea sickness during the rough ferry crossing from Victoria, BC to Port Angeles, WA. The weather was the shits, and so was our attitudes. Stuck in gridlock in a shithole of an American town we'd never been to with the rain coming down. It seemed like a bad omen for the weekend ahead of us. No one wants to spend an entire weekend at an outdoor music festival in pouring rain, gray clouds, and rain proof jackets.
We struggled to climb a mountain pass that still had snow on the side of the mountain at the end of May in Darryl's bright red Grand Am. Spacehog's “In the Meantime” was cranked in an effort to lighten the mood. We were both singing along, but both of us were in a terrible quiet mood.
As we crested the mountain pass and headed downhill the sun broke through immediately changing our attitudes. Sam passed us in his Rabbit in a defiant blur as we slipped down the windy mountain roads. The sky was open, and it was clear the sun we had craved all day changed our moods completely. Darryl and I joked around, had thoughtful conversations, and admired the scenery.
I cranked up The Grateful Dead's “Touch of Grey” and everything in the world was great again.