Go West Young Men

Yesterday’s clouds and rain only grew stronger for today. A musical drizzle played outside the lodge window when I woke up. I checked the sky to see only a thick ceiling of gray cement.

We packed up our belongings, checked out of the room, and migrated to the van for departure. Before leaving, Faro rifled through the van searching for Bos/Scot/MS (his stuffed teddy bear). He wanted to go back to the room because he thought he left it there. Sipe and I both looked in the room and assured him it wasn’t there. He ran back anyway, the foolish boy. As it turns out, apparently the little stuffed bear varmint was hiding in there and came out when Faro entered. It really would have been a shame to lose that mangy creature.

Then we piled into the van to begin the longest driving segment of the trip. We drove about a half an hour when we stopped to see another Yellowstone Attraction, West Thumb Lake. We discovered (by the smell) that there were sulfur hot springs there as well. Nice views. But the memorable factor came into play on our way out as we walked past one of these boiling pools. We saw a brown lump that looked like a rock or wooden stump. It wasn’t. I guess Bambi was thirsty or cold or needed a bath. Whatever it was, that baby deer isn’t getting out of that hot spring anytime soon.

Then we drove. Miles faded into miles. The interstate shot under our tires like a treadmill on a rocket-ship setting. (A rocket ship that of course abides the posted signs for speed limits….)

During this trip, though, we didn’t have big blue skies like other days. Not by a long shot. We encountered fog, clouds, rain, hail, huge hail, small tornados, bouts of sunshine, thunder, and lightning. For a long segment we actually were driving through thick clouds in the Big Horn Mountains and couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead of us. That was fun. I still don’t know if the sides of the road led to sheer cliff faces or if they were grassy meadows. I didn’t care to really find out.

Nonetheless, the drive continued. It dragged on like a sermon when you’re sleepy. It crept like the days before your birthday when you were six. It crawled like Frodo ascending Mount Doom. It relentlessly went on and on like an obnoxious, loquacious, verbose, wordy, and redundant English major trying to make a point. You get the idea.

Here’s where it started to get fun. Well, now I say fun. Fun, though, right then wasn’t the word zipping to my lips.

About twelve hours into the trip (around 2am mind you), we pull off the main interstate and enter a smaller highway. With stoplights and stop signs, it impaired our ability to make great time. For one reason or another, the three of us weren’t exactly in the highest or happiest spirits. Maybe it was three weeks in a car together. Maybe other factors were involved.

This road would lead us to another road that would lead us to another that would lead us to an intersection that would have my grandma’s house. So we were basically a hop, skip, and a jump from our destination. Something like that anyways.

Well, the late night morphed into early morning while the temperament in the car shifted from annoyed to downright irascible. As the story continues, we were nearing my grandma’s house. It sits off a gravel road lodged deep in the heart of Nebraska nestled in cornfield country. We were in desperate desire to be off the road, out of the darn car, and sleeping on soft beds with even softer pillows. Then I spotted her house. It didn’t help that I was bleary-eyed staring into the dark night with fog all around (or for that matter that I’m severely navigationally impaired) but it would appear that the farm we pulled onto wasn’t hers. Yeah, you just read that, I confused me grandma’s farm with someone else’s. But let’s not dwell on the past.

I knew Derek was very upset when he didn’t make any comments but just turned around the continued down the bumpy gravel road. Now I was really ready to be done with today’s drive. The fact that Derek was driving down the road like it was black ice and he had bald tires started to drive me up a wall. But there was no way I was going to say anything, not then anyway.

This whole time we didn’t say a word except when it was completely required. Otherwise, silence. Well, silence from us. But the radio continued howling on some bad country station. Another testament to how angry we were all becoming was that no one ever cared to touch the dial. It didn’t matter. Fun and jokes didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but getting into bed.

We soon found my grandma’s real house. We parked and I went to open the door to the house. It was locked. I thought it might be. But many times before I’d seen my mom on family vacations pull a hidden key from somewhere on the porch and open the door. So I didn’t worry but started instead to find the key. The boys sat in the van. I looked some more. They watched. I kept looking but found nothing but a rising temper revealed in a stone-cold demeanor. Then Faro joined in the search. It wasn’t in the pots, or under the pots, or by the cat dishes, under a ledge, in the corner, attached to the railing, lying in a dark corner, beside the chairs, or even in the birdhouse hung right by the door which I checked twice because it looked like the perfect hiding place.

I said, “Looks like we’re sleeping in the van tonight.” No eye contact – at all.

Silence.

Derek asks, “Can you call her?”

I take a long moment to look at my watch, knowing it’s after 4am but trying to prove a point to Derek. I deadpan a reply, “Nope.”

If people were heavily irritable before, I wouldn’t say mutinous or seething would be over-strong descriptors for the mood at this point.

I grabbed a mat, pillow, and sleeping bag and dropped them near the van. Faro and Sipe rustled inside the van until sleep took them. I watched the dark sky and felt the cool wind hoping that rain wouldn’t greet me in the morning. Either way, tomorrow started soon as we had to leave for church in the morning. What a day.

Today’s lesson: if you have nothing good to say don’t say it at all.

How true that is.

- JD and the boys