Beachside Escapade: Bud, the Hatchback, and the Rising Tide

How a Standard Shift Car and a Loyal Springer Spaniel Made for an Unforgettable Adventure

I lived in Oregon in the 90s and loved heading west on the Sunset Highway to the coast as often as possible.

One sunny Saturday, I was parked in my favorite spot on Del Rey Beach, stretched out in the back of my little Datsun hatchback, reading, with my Spaniel Bud curled up beside me. As I read, the gentle rhythm of the surf soon lulled me to sleep.

I had no idea how much time had passed, but suddenly I woke from my sound sleep with a start, disoriented by the sensation of movement. My car was floating, bobbing frighteningly with the movement of the tide. Bud’s ears perked up, sensing the change in my demeanor from relaxed and drowsy to panicked and terrified. As water slapped at my undercarriage, heart racing, I waded awkwardly from the back where I’d been curled with my book, around to the driver’s side door. Hands shaking, I slid behind the wheel, adrenaline spiking as I prayed the car engine wasn’t too wet to start.

Horrifyingly, I realized the ocean was about to turn my car into a boat.

The tide did more than just creep up—it began to lift the car, nudging us ever so gently, then setting us back down on the sand. Each time the car settled with a soft thud, I seized my chance, popping the gear shift into first and releasing the clutch, heart pounding in time with Bud’s excited tail wags. The sand was soft and uncertain, but determination and stubbornness (not to mention a bit of luck) were on our side. Once, twice, maybe a dozen times, we lurched forward in fits and starts, chasing traction with every roll of the waves.

Throughout it all, a bonfire crowd up on the grassy bank watched, their laughter and cheers carrying over the night air. I could hear their amused commentary—“Here we go again!”—as headlights bobbed and the engine revved, Bud barking enthusiastically as if he understood we were the main event. At last, with a final triumphant push, the tires caught solid ground and we crept free from the tide’s playful grip.

Breathless and sandy, I swung wide of the incoming water and parked well clear of the surf, Bud, still buzzing from our unexpected adventure, would probably have burst into zoomies if it weren’t for the cramped confines of my little Datsun car. Glancing back, I could see the beachgoers toasting us with their marshmallows, our wild escape now woven into the night’s stories.

My head collapsed to rest on the steering wheel in thanks for our narrow escape. Later, Bud and I sat together, watching the flickering bonfire in the distance. Maybe next time we’d aim for a quieter day with less excitement, but for now, we were content to have given the future an extra adventure to tell about—and a reason to laugh under the stars.