IT IS A TINY, tiny, teensy little world.
On my recent trip Out West, which was the subject of a brilliant and truthful column last week, our bunch stopped at a rest station 50-60 miles inside Texas from the Oklahoma line. We’ve stopped there every time we’ve gone through on our Bucket List treks Out West. It’s a good stop for a bathroom break, refilling water bottles, and taking pictures of the sign that warns Japanese travelers to beware of rattlesnakes.
As I walked inside I passed a family sitting in the shade just outside the door. I seem to remember a man, woman and about three kids. Mom was wearing a red Arkansas t-shirt. I said “Woooo Pig, Soieee” cheerfully before going inside.
They were nowhere in sight when we emerged from the building.
But, when I got ready to back out of the parking spot I luckily looked in the rearview mirror. And there, in a van right behind me, was the family. I got out and approached Mom who was in the passenger seat.
“We didn’t realize you were from Arkansas,” she said. “We’re Rattlers. We’re from Murfreesboro. Where are y’all from?”
I walked right up to her door and said: “We’re Scrappers.” She squealed, and we began reciting names of mutual acquaintances. It turns out that we knew plenty of the same people.
The lady even admitted to reading this column on occasion. We swapped names and I’m ashamed to admit I’ve not held onto that memory very well. Heck, sometimes I’m lucky if I can find my way home.
A few minutes later out on the Interstate we passed their van. With a wave, we pressed on. Our great adventure awaited. We noted a bunch of Arkansas cars Out West.
This was our first Bucket List trip in my swell new buggy. Granddaughter Carsyn did in 45 seconds what a whole bunch of adult ‘experts’ were unable to do in the previous year and a half — figger out how to play Pandora radio through my buggy’s stereo system.
The buggy was a great traveler. Plenty of muscle for passing or for going up twisty mountain roads; rock steady when meeting oncoming big rigs during an Oklahoma windstorm.
We put 2,620 miles on the odometer. And, according to the midget lady who lives behind the dash and who operates the onboard computer, we averaged 23.2 miles per gallon of gasoline on the trip.
When asked, that midget lady behind the dash will give instructions to get to your destination. We trusted her pretty much, even though Mr. Google, the invisible man on daughter Julie’s cell phone, sometimes differed with the midget lady.
“In two miles turn left,” she’d say.
“In two point two miles turn left,” he’d correct her.
They just didn’t get along too good.
There was one scary time when she said left and he said right. I don’t rightly remember what actually happened because Julie was driving and I closed my eyes, stuck my fingers in my ears and said ‘Nah nah nah nah” a bunch of times so I couldn’t hear the argument they had.
At one point somewhere in Colorado on the way home, she said turn left. He said go straight.
We believe her, and it added two hours to our trip. So I blame her for getting us into that dangerous motel on the wrong side of Albuquerque I wrote about last week.
Let me pass on this bit of learned wisdom. If your route out or back takes you on Oklahoma’s Indian Nations Turnpike, save up a baggie full of quarters. It sure is easier than having to go inside the toll booth to give blood samples, family history and fingerprints.
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GOOD JOB ON our town’s annual Stand Up for America gala. I know that people have been working on this project for months. The hard work showed. Rain spoiled the turnout, but once again I express my awe at our homegrown talent.
The crowd had grown to several hundred by the time the star attraction went on stage. The chamber’s late manager, Nobie Ann Williams, would have cowed the media so that the reported attendance was 3,000.
It is a real accomplishment these days to put on an event year after year after year. New leadership and new volunteers are a must because frankly people just get ‘burned out’ after awhile.
Makes me really appreciate Stand Up and the county’s longest-running festival — the Dierks Pine Tree Festival which will be in August on the hottest weekend of the year.
Add this: Good job, Nashville City Park.
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THE OUTDOORSMEN. Rod and Reel. They do love fishing, but not so much cleaning their catch. Separately they’re not worth a darn. One of then (I won’t say who) invented backlash.
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HE SAID: “For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return.” Leonardo da Vinci, artist and inventor who never flew
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SHE SAID: “Some days are just bad days, that’s all. You have to experience sadness to know happiness, and I remind myself that not every day is going to be a good day, that’s just the way it is!” Dita Von Teese, burlesque dancer
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SWEET DREAMS, Baby
