A camping trip without rain is like a hot dog without hair on it.

We had a freak rainstorm here today, complete with lightning, thunder and hail. It caught us completely by surprise; we were playing tennis in the sun and all of a sudden the wind picked up and a monster crowd of purple clouds blew over the top of us and started dumping. It reminded me of a camping trip Brian and I attempted a few years ago.
It was a beautiful day out, and my Brian suggested that we head up into the foothills and find a camping spot. I was fighting a cold, and Amanda and a few others had to work, so it ended up just being Brian and I who were available, but I did so want to go camping so we picked up a few necessities, like hot-dogs and beer, and hit the open road. We drove up towards Lake Tahoe, top down on the convertible (P.O.S.'91 VW Cabriolet) checking out sites on the way.
Eventually we found one we liked complete with nearby bubbling brook and no immediate neighbors to distract us from the great outdoors. We set up the tent, made a fire, cracked a couple beers and threw some dogs on. After having a dog, Brian decided to try and catch us some fish from the stream. He wandered away with his pole in hand and I reclined on the picnic table and stared at the sky. "Hmm", I thought, "might rain".
While I was pondering that ponderable, the camp host pulled up on an electric golf cart. He was a short, skinny 60-something with a grey, military issue flat-top."Howdy" he said.
"Howdy" I replied, smiling.
"Good spot!" he said, pausing and returning the smile.
"Yup"
"It's $40 a night, how long you boys staying?"
"Uh, probably just tonight." I looked around for Brian.
"Okay, well then it's fordee bucks"
"Okay, well, the other guy is paying, so I'll have him head over there when he gets back." He looked around for a minute, then left without saying anything. Brian and I had agreed that he'd pay for the site, as I'd spent a bunch on supplies. Brian appeared from the trees a moment later. He was smoking a cigarette and as he approached he dropped it on the ground and put his fishing pole where I'd been laying.
"No luck" he said, and opened another beer.
"The host guy was here, you need to pay him $40" I said, sipping my beer. He stared thoughtfully at the fire.
"I don't have any cash, we'll pay tomorrow" he concluded. The host pulled up again from where he'd been schmoozing with an older couple down the way. Brian explained the situation.
"Nope, you have to pay tonight." He must have decided we were a flight risk. Brian stared at the fire more while the host and I watched in growing discomfort.
"Okay, we'll go get money. Where's the nearest ATM?" The host told him where it was, ten miles up the hill and then sped away. We stood in silence for a moment, during which it started sprinkling.
"Let's just go home" he said.
"I just spent $80 on all this" I replied, pointing around at the new cooler, food scattered around the site, camp-tableware and booze. "Plus we're already set up."
"Well I don't have $40." Brian had recently inherited a bunch of money from a dead relative, in addition to a bunch of stocks he already had from another inheritance. He had five cars, two boats, a scooter and rented a nice house with a garage big enough to keep them all. He was also a notorious cheapskate and a liar. I'm pretty sure he'd intended on ditching in the morning before the host made his rounds to collect.
"Um... yes you do @#$% head!" I replied calmly.
"I haven't cashed out any stocks and I lost my bank card." The rain got heavier. "Let's go." he finished, then he began packing things up. Pissed but defeated, I followed suit, rolling up sleeping bags, taking down the tent, etc., all the while cursing under my breath between coughs (the cold). It started hailing. We managed to get everything packed into the car in about six minutes. We settled into the car silently. Brian sped out of the campground, passed the confused host, and onto the highway. The worn top on the convertible was flapping wildly, and I was being misted with rainwater that was seeping through it. I coughed and hugged myself.
About 10 minutes into the hour and a half long drive home, the top ripped completely off the car. We were being pelted by torrential rain and hail at 75 miles per hour. "I have to get that" he said, pulling over. I pulled my arms into the torso of my sweatshirt and cursed. It was freezing, and we still had 80 minutes to go. Brian wrestled the decrepit top down into the back seat with our stuff and we took off. Occasionally something would fly out behind us, but I was too cold and pissed to care. I kept thinking the rain would stop when we got lower down, but it continued pissing on us all the way home. By the time we got into town, we were soaked to the bone and shivering violently. I was coughing every couple seconds and felt as sick as a dog. He dropped me off at my house and I got out without a word and walked inside to take a hot shower. He never apologized and he still has my cooler.

Any good camping/rain stories?

fishing

I went fishing yesterday for the first time in a few years. I actually had a very good time for 8 hours despite losing two fishing poles with reels, breaking another rod, losing $40 worth of lures and not catching a single fish. Well, I had one all the way up to the shore, but it got away as I tried to pull it over some rocks because we had no net. I think my high times might have been dampered had it been my gear that we lost, but luckily it was all Brian's so no harm done. We started out at Lake Oroville, thrity minutes from Brian's house and fished off of steep, crumbly, narrow rock ledges that we had to walk along with our arms full of fishing shwag and pets; yes, Brian brought his dog along and the dog needed to be carried the whole time. Brian had his arms full (two poles and a 64oz. soda which he refilled thrice over the course of the day) so I had to carry the dog and the tackle box. There were several points where we had to pass the dog around corners of rock that jutted out over the lake 20 feet below us so that we could cling onto the rock as we passed. We ended up doing much more hiking than fishing at Oroville and after getting not so much as a bite from a fish in 2 hours we decided to do it all in reverse and head to a stream that feeds Collins Lake, which is right by Brian's house. Once we got to the stream we walked to the trunk to retrieve the fishing poles only to realize we'd left them at Oroville in front of the car. So we jumped back in the car and Brian zoomed (I had to ask him to slow down several times because Brian is a terrible driver and I don't like riding in cars in the first place) back to Oroville where the poles had already been stolen. We made the drive a fourth time, slower this time, and headed back to the stream. There we fished, and lost lures, and had a couple bites and the afore-mentioned almost catch for about six hours until it was too dark. Tucker the dog ran away several times and I had to go get him because Brian was perpetually back at the car changing his clothes (you have to know Brian to understand). Aside from fetching the dog occasionally it was a very relaxing time and I think I finally understand the appeal. For several hours I just listened to the water rushing past and let random thought about nothing but casting my spinner and reeling it back in. It was meditation but better than the traditional sort as I was meditating with the chance of catching a fish for my efforts. When it got dark and Brian said we should go I made one final cast, effectively launching the furthest section of the 4 piece fishing pole into the middle of the stream. I tried to reel it back in but it sank too quickly as I lost the my fourth lure and that section of the rod when it snagged on a bush and my line broke. The fish that got away wasn't anything too impressive, but the poles that got away were pretty nice.