Let’s go to DISNEYLAND!!!!
It seemed like a great idea. Bad Ass was stationed in California temporarily as he served in the Navy, and really we had nothing better to do than to make the 1,165 mile journey to Anaheim.
We’ll RENT AN RV!!!
I don’t remember who’s bright idea that was, but we were all game. My little brother Smart Ass and I went to the rental dealership with my step-dad Bob to pick up the beauty that would be carrying us across the country….or the state. When Bob accidentally slipped the checkout clerk his gas card she was all “are you trying to pay with this??” and he was all “Oh! No, I’m sorry…I mean….can I??” Smart Ass and I beat that joke into the ground for the rest of the trip.
“I’ll take a steak and side salad please, the lady will take your house wine…just put it in on my Chevron…”
When we got our sweet ride (for the sake of simplicity I’ll call her Sally), when we got Sally home we packed up and headed on our way. I was in eighth grade and pining for my flame back home. Doug and I were pretty involved. And by “involved” I mean I couldn’t bring myself to kiss him, but the feelings were strong. Every time SWV’s ‘Weak’ came on the radio I thought of him and hoped that my refusal to kiss him wasn’t sending him the wrong message.
I get so weak in the knees I can hardly speak.
I lose all control and something takes over me.
In a daze and it’s so amazing, it’s not a phase.
I want you to stay with me, by my side.
So true SWV. So true.
The voyage with Sally did not go as smoothly as anticipated. Chairs fell from her roof and we had to pull over on the freeway to retrieve them. Some kind of gas leaked into the back bedroom and I woozily complained about a headache. I believe that ‘gas’ is referred to as ‘carbon monoxide’ and other than the possibility of DEATH we were relatively safe in there.
Bob’s driver side door would not stay shut. It flapped open spontaneously as we cruised down the freeway and eventually he had no choice but to doo hickey that door shut with some wire cables that I’m sure he had tucked into his suitcase…because that’s just the kind of guy Bob was. We were riding in a death trap, this much we can be sure of. But in an amazing twist Sally decided to avoid killing us she would simply stop running.
That’s right.
Sally broke down.
Bob and Smart Ass went for help. We got a tow truck. We ALLLLL squeezed in to the front seat of that God awful truck and held our breath as tears streamed down my poor mother’s face from the weight of her four children on top of her.
The only remaining evidence of our time with sweet Sally is this picture we took with her. She looks so happy.
As for the rest of us…
Time has done us well.
RIP Sally.
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