Marian Wesley and Silence Waters decided to go camping together. It was fall; it was cold out but very beautiful because the cold weather caused the leaves of the trees to turn to all sorts of abnormally brilliant colors, reds and golds and oranges. They lived fairly near a set of mountains in which there was located a good number of government-managed campgrounds, in state or national parks or forest service areas or wilderness preserves, and so they set a date on which Marian would ride his bike over to Silence's apartment, put his bike inside her apartment, and then he and her would take their stuff and themselves and put them into Silence's car and then drive out to the mountains to the national forest Forest Service campground where they were intending to be staying that night, which is to say the night that they had set for the first of their camping expedition, out across the mountain pass and then up the skirts of the mountains on the other side and then back into the mountains along a long and winding dirt or gravel road which went for miles and miles and miles but actually had no outlet nor civilisation located anywhere along its course. If, while they were driving along this long and winding dirt or gravel road and something happened to go wrong with the car, such as it having run out of gas or the car having got a flat tire, which Silence did not have a spare replacement for in that event, then the two would be stranded in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by hostile animals and with no way of getting food or shelter or assistance for their poor troubled automobile - but worst of all, they would be stranded miles from the nearest bathroom. Which would be a bad thing. But of course nothing would go wrong with the car along that long and winding dirt or gravel road with no outlet and the two of them would arrive at their camping destination without incident, safely, and have a good and fun and happy and romantic weekend out among the trees with a lovely Forest Service pit toilet only a few dozen feet away from their campsite.
I'm sorry, I oughtn't to mention the presence of bathrooms - waste disposal facilities, if you will - or the necessity thereof so explicitly - such a behaviour isn't usually considered a good and ladylike behaviour in most polite social circles. However, I am only attempting to add a touch of much-needed realism to the tragic little tale of mine, all right? I mean, come on now! It's only freaks like you folks who don't eat or drink and plants and fungi and microbes who don't need some means of sanitarily and modestly disposing of the waste products of their bodies' digestive processes, and among most civilised persons such a place as a bathroom, be it a biffy (a Bathroom In the Forest For You) or a bidet (actually, I lied - that's not for waste disposal, it's just a weird French invention that I kind of tend to find disgusting myself, though my uncle claims to like the fresh clean feeling such a device apparently imparts - which is probably - nay, definitely - way the hell more than you or anybody else, myself included, ever wanted to know about my uncle or anybody else), being a walled enclosure for the deposition and removal of human wastes in a sanitary and modest fashion, is a necessity for life. Except when backpacking or wilderness camping, but that's beside the point and I've gone on way the hell to long on this rude and digusting topic, and needlessly, too! Gah! Just- just listen to the story, okay? Don't be a five-year-old dumbass, okay? Jeez louise.