I’ve mentioned before that I go to a writing group on Wednesday afternoons. We get a prompt every week and can use it to write something to share. One week, the prompt was Road Trips and this is what I wrote.
When I was a child, we traveled a lot. Sometimes, we were moving, other times we were taking road trips. Since my family consistently lived far away from everyone else, we were the ones who hit the road every summer for our family vacation. My father didn’t enjoy making the extended trip, so my mother, sister and I traveled without him.
Since we lived in western Nebraska and the family units lived in Tennessee and Ohio, we’d head east. We were able to save money on accommodations by staying with friends along the way. My mother was a sensational planner and would plot out our trip carefully. My sister and I, when we got old enough, acted as navigators—a job I eventually took over, because it was apparent fairly early on that my sister couldn’t read a road map to save all our lives.
Mom liked to try new routes and was always looking for back roads and shortcuts. She had a strong sense of adventure and wasn’t averse to going new places, enjoying the challenge of finding the way. Unfortunately, shortcuts aren’t always good. We found that out when traveling through Colorado when I was a teenager. We were on our way to pick up my friend, Charlotte, who was visiting her grandparents somewhere in eastern Colorado. From there, we were going to Boulder, Colorado to a folk dance camp on Lookout Mountain.
With great excitement, we packed up the Plymouth and struck out to the great unknown. We’d never been to this particular part of Colorado and we were all excited. Mom had pored over maps and atlases, trying to find the perfect route to Charlotte’s. She was sure she’d discovered the greatest shortcut possible, and so it seemed, until the lovely road petered out and we were stuck on some back country dirt road.
Colorado means “red” and we discovered very soon why the state bore this name. We didn’t know it had rained a day or two before—heavily. We also didn’t realize that although the red clay soil of Colorado LOOKED all right, looks could be deceiving. It was fine for a few miles, but Murphy’s Law kicked in when we were literally in the middle or nowhere. I’ve never seen so much nothing in my life!
We noticed the car was a little sluggish, not holding the road as it should. Suddenly, we were mired in nearly a foot of red mud! We couldn’t even get out of the car. The mud had us trapped. I was thinking of climbing out a window, which my mother put a stop to immediately, when we saw a tractor about a ¼ mile away. This part of Colorado was nearly as flat as Nebraska, so we were sure he could see us. We honked and waved to get the farmer’s attention.
He rumbled over a few minutes later, grinning. “You all got stuck, did ya?”
My mother explained what happened. It was from this fine man that we learned about the rain.
“It’s okay, ma’am. We’ll get ya out!”
There were no other people with him. By we, he meant him and his tractor. He put a chain on us and hitched our car to the tractor. Mom put the car in gear and gunned the motor. With a little fiddling about, and lots of flying mud, we were free once more! The kind farmer went with us for a few miles until the pavement began again. He wouldn’t accept any money for helping us, merely grinned and tipped his hat. I got the feeling we’d really made his day.
The rest of the trip to pick up Charlotte, was quiet and uneventful, but my mom sat down with her grandfather and made sure she asked him what the best route to Boulder was. We made it to Lighted Lantern Folk Dance Camp without further incident, but we were shedding chucks of red mud for nearly a month after that.
We’ve had a lot of fun on our road trips, but that was the only time we ever brought the road home with us.
© 2014 Dellani Oakes