We started out, one summer's day, on a trip up to the lake,
The Blazer had been packed, the boat all set to take.
Six hours is the usual time, to go from here to there,
But as I spoke the words that day, something said "Beware".
.
Tooling down the highway, on a pleasant summer day,
The tunes were on, the air was cool, going ninety kay.
Suddenly the motor died, and we coasted to a stop,
Something wrong electrically, caused a fuse to pop.
.
Four hours later on our way, the mechanic had been paid,
Up the Coquihalla, as the sun began to fade.
Clouds rolled in so quickly, rain came pouring down,
The highway was a river, as we neared old Merritt town.
.
Suddenly, a cloud of smoke, came pouring from the truck,
A blown main transmission seal, of all the rotten luck.
Two days later and on the way, the mechanic had been paid,
Three more hours left to go, was the estimate I made.
.
Alas I spoke too quickly, the cloud of smoke was back,
After fifty one kilometres, along the asphalt track.
The truck was towed to Kamloops, I stayed back with the boat,
Seven hours later, my rescue seemed remote.
.
The sun had set, the air was cold, the semi's screaming by,
As I lay there in my sleeping bag, I began to wonder why?
We did not go to Disneyland, or some other distant spot,
For rest and relaxation, where the sun's rays could be caught.
.
In spite of all the troubles, the vacation held some fun,
The rain had stopped, the sun was out, the boat was there to run.
Eleven short days later, another trip was made,
Back into town, to see the man, the mechanic had been paid.
.
So now I tell the story, of my holidays in Hell,
And draw a grin from everyone, when I tell them it was swell.
I will go back, I always will, I'm really not afraid,
You see, I am an optimist, and the mechanic has been paid.