DESERT ROAD

I was invited to spend Thanksgiving with C’s grandparents, who live in Yuma, Arizona. Hence plans were afoot as to how to get an entire family including a hyperactive dog to Yuma with the minimum of effort. I was to go with D, since I was not sure when I would be able to get off of work and C wasn’t sure she wanted me and a hyperactive golden retriever together in the back seat. Whose sanity was she really trying to save?

So D and I set off after dropping off C at her cousin E’s home. She gave me strict instructions to swat D if he swore too much at the other drivers along the way. D complained that he was not only getting beaten up by his wife, but that she was instigating other people to do the same. If you could beat up a 7-foot, 200 + pound Navy- trained sharpshooter that is. We were off, with D gleefully remarking that we would definitely get there before the “girls”. He was a perfect gentleman, swearing only once at a crazy guy who kept changing lanes in bumper to bumper traffic.

We decided to stop at Carl’s Jr for a bite to eat and who should walk in but C and E. The look on D’s face was a sight to behold. He finally decided that he was unfortunate enough to hit all the traffic while the girls had had a relatively traffic-free ride. We left the restaurant before them, since the dog needed a walk to burn off extra energy. Two hours later, we arrived at C’s grandparents’ home. A minute later, guess who we see pulling into the driveway??