THE WANDERERS #22
SEARCHING, WITH NO PARTICULAR PLACE TO GO
By Rick Sieman
When we least left Carl and Emma, they just finished racing The Whale in the Baja Safari, and due to the fact that Carl had knocked all the course markings off by accident, he had actually won the event when everyone else got lost. With the trophy on their hood, the wandering (what else?) duo headed north, with no particular place in mind. We join them as they drive through Arizona on Interstate 8, just sort of aimlessly driving in the general direction of the center of our great country.
***
Carl set the cruise control at 68 mph, then settled back in the comfortable captains chair. He had a plug of Red Man chewing tobacco in his left cheek and was munching on some beef jerky in his right cheek. Every time Emma watched him do this, she shuddered involuntarily. How any person could combine eating with chewing on a plug was beyond her. Carl pointed at the massive radio and said, "Heemuummmp, Ma. Hhoowosha bt trrrnking nda phrado?"
Emma set down her knitting and sighed. "Carl, I cannot understand one word you're saying. Now spit out one or another of those things, or I'm going to pretend that you're not even here!"
Carl thought about arguing with her for a moment, but dismissed that after some consideration. After all, when you've been married to a woman for over 30 years, you tend to pick up on the things that really bug them.
So Carl rolled the window down and waited until a sign was in sight. The sign said "KEEP ARIZONA BEAUTIFUL", which was the kind of sign that was Carl's favorite target. He took a deep breath, pursed his lips, slowed the Suburban down a bit and let fly.
A piece of beef jerky bounced off the center of the sign, and Carl gave silent thanks that he hadn't made the mistake of swallowing the plug of chew first. Something like that could ruin a man's whole day.
Another sign rolled into view. This one said "VEHICLES WITH TRAILERS STAY IN RIGHT LANE", and Carl took careful aim and planted the plug right on the 'L' in the word 'LANE'.
Emma sighed, "Good shot, Rambo."
Carl smiled. "Gee, thanks, Emma. I knew you'd grow to appreciate my skills. Maybe you'd like to try a plug yourself. It'd calm you down so you wouldn't have to knit so much."
"Carl, I'd rather sit on a hot waffle iron in a pit full of hungry snakes before I'd put that nasty stuff in my face!"
Got got a puzzled look on his face. "So, what are you trying to say, honey pot? Spit it out. Don't hold back."
Emma just sighed.
Carl pointed at the radio. "Say, now that you can hear me loud and clear, howsa 'bout dialing me in some tunes on the radio. There ain't much to see out here in Utah."
"We're in Arizona, dear."
"That's what I said. You got wax in your ears?"
Emma just looked up at the roof for a moment, and wisely said nothing. She spun the captains chair around and started fiddling with the radio.
SCRREEEEEECH... .SQUAUCK....
“ … another nice day here in Phoenix, with temperatures hovering right around 104 degrees, so it looks like the heat wave is over... “
…DIAL, DIAL, DIAL…
"...the answer to scrawny chickens and turkeys is right here in this red and white bag. Yessiree, Wonder Grow Number 26 makes those feathered suckers grow like Arnold Schwartznegger on steroids. Your poultry will grow so fast that..."
…DIAL, DIAL, DIAL…
"...so our charts show that investing in Bulgarian commemorative stamps are the way to building a real fortune. Why, a simple $5000 investment can easily turn into five times that money over...”
…DIAL, DIAL, DIAL…
"...this group goes all the way back to the early days of Oingo Boingo, so you can see they've got some rock and roll roots. Hang on to your ear rings as we light off 'Lick My Armpit', one of the fastest rising ..."
…DIAL, DIAL, DIAL…
"...bugs can drive you buggy, and that's why a call to Bugwhackers gets those pests out of your house. We come in with our Bug-O-Matic specialists and …”
…DIAL, DIAL, DIAL…
"...next up, we'll play a six pack of the best of Willy Nelson, followed by the Frog Hollow Banjo Pickers playing some serious bluegrass stuff from..."
"Hold it right there, Emma! We have just stumbled veritable gold mine of musical goodies. None of that Bruce Stingspring crap. This here will make the miles roll by."
Emma looked up from her knitting. "That's nice, dear. But just where are we headed? It would be sort of nice to have a goal."
"Honey pot, we're just rollin' with the wind. Sorta like a tumbleweed with no aim. Whatever catches our fancy, why that's what we'll do."
They drove in silence for a long time, listening to the mournful sounds that only Willy Nelson can make, all about good whiskey and bad women. Or was it bad whiskey and good women?
Carl stretched his arms and let out a deep breath. "You know, Emma. This ain't such a bad life. I mean, we just wander along, stop when we want to, do what we want to. I guess all those years of hard work paid off. And you know what? After that last thing I did, entering the Baja Safari and all, I think it's time for me sort of settle down. No more dumb stuff for me. Things like fishin' sound good right about now."
Emma smiled and gave Carl a gentle pinch on the cheek. She had rarely been happier, and it made her feel good to see Carl so calm and collected.
Then, as fate would have it, the music stopped and the announcer on the radio started talking: "... and you sure don't want to miss the Nebraska State Championship Mud Bogs. We'll have classes for everybody, and for the big truck classes, the winner is gonna get a new Ranger bass boat and five hunnert bucks. The Chevy dealers of Nebraska are sponsoring this one, so stop by a Chevy dealer and fill out a form and..."
Carl bolted straight up in his seat, his eyes bugging out. "Quick, Emma! Get out the road map and see how far we are from Nebraska. This could be great!!!"
Emma let out a low moan and started gently banging her forehead against the thickly padded dash of The Whale.
"Hey, whattsa matter with you, woman? You got one of those margarine headaches?"
"You mean migraine."
"Yeah. That's what I said. Anyway, get the big map out. We're headin' for Kansas to do some mud-boggin'!"
"You mean Nebraska. And, no, I do not have a migraine headache. You are just driving me nuts, but I guess it's too late to change you at this stage in your life."
Emma fumbled with the map for a minute, then said, "Head in to Phoenix and pick up Highway 10 heading east. We should hit Nebraska sooner or later."
Carl started whistling and humming badly out of tune, while Emma silently prayed that Carl would get lost on the way to the mud bog.
Hmmm. With Carl's track record, the odds are about 60/40 that he'll never find his way to Nebraska, but if he does, will he actually enter The Whale in a mud bog event? Is it possible that The Whale will sink from sight forever in a bottomless Nebraska mud-hole? Join us in the flat-lands next month to see.