Once a friend and I had driven up to Portland from San Francisco, to do some video work up there, and as anyone who's made the drive can tell you, it takes you right through Yreka.
On the way back, there's a big, huge mountain, and in the process of going down it something went Very Wrong with her car, and we had to pull into the nearest repair shop to see what was wrong, in order to find out if we had a chance of getting home. This was in Yreka, CA.
Well, we get to Yreka, which is this tiny little city, and we try to find an auto repair place, but it's a Sunday, which apparently means most of them are closed. We call down the list, and every single one.. closed, closed, closed. Desperate, we talk to this front desk girl at one of the hotels, and she says there's a local place just down the street and the owner might be willing to come in and help. She calls and he is, but it'll be a couple hours, so we're told to just bring the car over for now.
We bring the car over (just down the street, maybe a mile at BEST and probably less), and there's a couple dudes just hanging out in the mechanic's garage, listening to music, chilling and drinking. We explain the issue and what's going on, and they're like, "oh, well, we can't really help with that but do you wanna hang out and drink with us?"
We are... trepidatious, but it's hot, and it's boring, and we really just have to wait for the owner to get there, so... sure. They bust out some tequila from a mini-fridge and we get to it. The owner eventually calls, says he's running a bit late and just leave the car there. We tell him where we're staying (a hotel up the street), and at this point the two mechanic guys in the garage are getting a little rowdy, so we figure it'd be an OK time to excuse ourselves.
We say our goodbyes and they offer us a ride up to the hotel since we'd otherwise have to walk -- my friend wanted to take it, but I declined, and though they asked a few more times they eventually let it go. We head off.
We're back in the hotel, sitting around, and by now it's dark and we're eating some shitty delivered pizza from.. Round Table, I think? It was the only thing open we could find that delivered, anyway, and we get a call on the room phone. I pick it up. It's the owner of the auto shop, "You the girls that came in earlier, right? You know anything about what happened?"
I pause. I'm confused. I look over to my friend as if she could've heard the question somehow, and I slowly say, "Uh.. what do you mean what happened?"
"So you two don't know *ANYTHING*," he stresses, "about what happened at the shop?"
"Uh... no..? Why, what.. happened at the shop?" I ask. He turns my question around and then asks me to tell him what my experience was while we were there, then, and I let him know we showed up, hung out with those two guys and had a drink or two, but then eventually just headed back to the hotel after he called my cell.
As it turns out, the two guys... didn't work there. They were just.. there. And, as it turns out, after they got loaded on beer and tequila and we left them, they *went on a rampage* and destroyed a couple nearby stores and started a fire in a drunken blackout, and police are trying to figure out what happened.
...Anyway, we found out the next morning that the car engine was broken and the whole thing was effectively then scrap, so I had a friend come pick me up and drive me back to Portland so I could fly home, and I never made that drive with anyone again.
Yreka, good times.
Edit: [found my tweets](https://i.imgur.com/kvKmfTx.png