Sunday, July 15, 2007

In Disappointment

Let me just tell you how completely bummed we all are.
We were headed up the mountain, cruising along at a surprising 75 mph, considering we were fully loaded with gear and the five of us.
All of a sudden.... RRRrrrrr. Nothin'.
Won't go in gear. Won't do anything.
We pull over, and ponder. What the hell?

Eric checks stuff out (which is really pretty funny, he is like me, wouldn't recognize something wrong even if it were visible) and shrugs his shoulders. "I dunno."
Looks under the truck. Nothing spewing.
Wait a few minutes, try to start it. Nothing.

I wasn't worried, it was a 100 degrees (or sure seemed like it), we were almost to the top of Parley's (a pretty big climb), we were really loaded down, and the truck was just over heated, I thought. Seemed likely.
No worries. Give it a while.
Give it another while.
Trevy and I tried to catch grasshoppers a ways off the side of the road. They were tiny. And fast.
Tried again.
Not yet.
Still not worried.
Finally a really nice kid stopped to help us, he's driving an older 4Runner himself.
After some investigating... "I think it's either your timing belt or your fuel pump."
Not overheated, he said.
Tow truck? he asks.
(Note my sinking heart at this point.)
Tow truck!?! Can it be?
Not really true, is it?
But what about meeting The Sea Monster, Trev wants to know. (Yes, Moon Lake boasts The Moon Lake Monster.)
He not only planned on meeting him (her?) he planned on swimming with it. Even had me call Uncle Nate to see if he could borrow his scuba diving gear so he'd be sure to spot him. Didn't want to ask Uncle Nate himself because he didn't want his heart broken. (I told him that I didn't think Uncle Nate would have gear his size.) Turns out, Uncle Nate doesn't have any scuba gear, any more.

Had Eric try three more times while waiting for the tow truck.

Aaah, damn.
The whole way home (in the cab of the towtruck) we lamented and wailed about how Very Disappointed we all were.

Eric kept telling Trev how sorry he was, and sad for him, and eventually I complained "Aren't you sorry for Me, too? I certainly am!" I was half teasing, but very near tears myself. He said that indeed he was. Hmmph.

I sat myself down here (at home), terribly sad, bemoaning our fate, hoping to write my way into being healed of all heartache.

It has certainly helped that I'm sittin' here outside, on the back patio - there are rainclouds, making promises, looking dark and dangerous. My family is jumping on the tramp, playing, BAH!ing, and bouncing each other. Much laughter, roaring, hootin' and hollerin' is going on.
It's really quite nice.

I guess it won't bee too hard to find reasons for laughter and joy.

(just a few minutes later)
Now it's almost full dark. I've plugged in the white Christmas lights that I have draped around the covered patio.
The crickets are chirping. It's still, except for the waving occasional breeze on the treetops.
Just a short while ago I was having a hard time imagining any magic coming from this very ordinary (for me) scene.
It's all so usual. It's my favorite wicker chair. Feet crossed and propped up on the arm of the matching sofa. Tall cold glass of beer next to me on my little accent table.

Aah, hell. (Or Heaven.)
Yes, I s'pose this will do.

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