"We have to do that again," says my cousin Sean.
We're returning home from the sand dunes in Florence. It was a hot and windy summer day to ride four-wheelers on the steep sand dunes. The heavy, high-powered vehicles feel intimidating between my legs, but eventually I turn into speed racer. We had so much fun we did it twice that week.
"Sean don't make a mess," says his mother, my Aunt Sue. The chocolate ice cream cone in Sean's hand hangs on for dear life as the car makes another sharp turn up highway 101 to Yachats.
"Why couldn't they have just made this one long straight road so I could sit comfortably in my seat?" Sean is annoyed.
"Because a straight line is boring. It's a lot more fun driving up a windy road with the ocean to the left and the trees to the right," says Grandma Peg.
"Lean," I say as everyone shifts their weight to the right side of the car.
It's an adventure making it to Yachats, but once you get there, to me anyway, you never want to leave. It doesn't have the sand dunes of Florence or the Oregon Coast Aquarium in Newport, but there's something about this little town that sits comfortably in between that appeals to me.
A quiet little town on the Oregon coast, Yachats is home to the spouting whale that sits in a resident's front yard, a bed and breakfast with a candy-striped roof and the best name for a video store, "In Sheep's Clothing." I have spent fifteen summers at this place, whether for a weekend or a week and every time I'm here, I never want to leave. It's a place where I've seen an otter swim in a river and a firework hit a woman square in the butt.
We survive the curvy road and make it into Yachats. On the left is the ugly box-shaped house. A little farther and there's the Shamrock Inn. It always says no vacancy. After crossing the bridge, we make a right into Quiet Water.
"Mom, can I go to the pool," says Sean.
"You can after you use the wash room and clean your face," says a motherly Aunt Sue.
We make it back to my Grandparent's cottage. A white ford explorer carrying my mom, dad, sister and uncle follow behind us. Not all of us could stay at my Grandparent's cottage, so we rented the neighbor's.
"You have the key?" my sister Lindsay says.
We're returning home from the sand dunes in Florence. It was a hot and windy summer day to ride four-wheelers on the steep sand dunes. The heavy, high-powered vehicles feel intimidating between my legs, but eventually I turn into speed racer. We had so much fun we did it twice that week.
"Sean don't make a mess," says his mother, my Aunt Sue. The chocolate ice cream cone in Sean's hand hangs on for dear life as the car makes another sharp turn up highway 101 to Yachats.
"Why couldn't they have just made this one long straight road so I could sit comfortably in my seat?" Sean is annoyed.
"Because a straight line is boring. It's a lot more fun driving up a windy road with the ocean to the left and the trees to the right," says Grandma Peg.
"Lean," I say as everyone shifts their weight to the right side of the car.
It's an adventure making it to Yachats, but once you get there, to me anyway, you never want to leave. It doesn't have the sand dunes of Florence or the Oregon Coast Aquarium in Newport, but there's something about this little town that sits comfortably in between that appeals to me.
A quiet little town on the Oregon coast, Yachats is home to the spouting whale that sits in a resident's front yard, a bed and breakfast with a candy-striped roof and the best name for a video store, "In Sheep's Clothing." I have spent fifteen summers at this place, whether for a weekend or a week and every time I'm here, I never want to leave. It's a place where I've seen an otter swim in a river and a firework hit a woman square in the butt.
We survive the curvy road and make it into Yachats. On the left is the ugly box-shaped house. A little farther and there's the Shamrock Inn. It always says no vacancy. After crossing the bridge, we make a right into Quiet Water.
"Mom, can I go to the pool," says Sean.
"You can after you use the wash room and clean your face," says a motherly Aunt Sue.
We make it back to my Grandparent's cottage. A white ford explorer carrying my mom, dad, sister and uncle follow behind us. Not all of us could stay at my Grandparent's cottage, so we rented the neighbor's.
"You have the key?" my sister Lindsay says.
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