It Was An Ordinary Road Trip

We set out at about 9:00AM on 12/26 for a long anticipated tript to Arkansas. Because we planned to hunt, we had guns. Because it was our Christmas visit, we had gifts. Because we would be gone a week, we had tons of luggage. Because we're stupid, we had a dog. We were packed pretty tighly in the van when we set off in the rain and wind and cold.

Things went relatively well for about an hour, when it appeared that we had encountered bad gas. No, not that gas. Gas that makes the van go. So, at Hellertown, we pulled off bought some Gas-Dry, and filled the tank with more gas. We started the van....well, we tried to start the van. Of course, the damn van wouldn't start.

Fortunately, my father-in-law lives only a couple of miles away, and there happened to be a tow truck sitting at the gas station, so we had the van towed, and switched our 'stuff' to my father-in-law's mini-van. Did I mention that we did all this in a cold, blowing rain? You're probably thinking something like "this can't get worse?"

Oh, ye of little faith. It can always get worse. think about how your hands feel when they are cold, and wet. Really, really, really cold. Now, slam the car door on one of your hands. See, it can be worse. Fortunately, no great harm came from the experience. My hand is fine.

So we traveled to Arkansas in a mini-van full of guns, luggage, dogs, gifts and us, and it really wasn't a bad trip.

So, in Arkansas we prepared for our duck hunt. Because there the water is so high, we had to go out in the swamp, in the boat and collect and reposition the decoys. So, we're in a 14 ft. john boat, in a swamp that normally is about 2 feet deep in water, but is now about 5 ft deep, and of course, we foul the prop on the motor with the rope. Did I mention that it's cold, and the wind is blowing, and that we are in a swamp that is too deep to walk out of, about a mile from the landing....and now the boat motor won't go? Fortunatly, we are able to manouver to a place where my nephew is able to stand on a floating tree, and, using my knife, clear the prop. We motored out.

The hunt the next day was equally interesting. Because there's so much water, the ducks have too many choices and stayed away from us. On the way out, we pulled up to the duck clubhouse, and were about to tie off the boat, and go in. My niece's boyfriend was struggling with tieing the boat off, so I stood up and stepped out of the boat to walk around to the front to tie it for him. The nice thing about the club house is that it is situated so that we usually can motor right up to a really shallow spot, and just step out of the boat into about 6 inches of water. The operative word is 'usually'. Not always. Not when the water is up by 4 feet. Then the water is 4 feet, six inches deep. Yeah, it's cold, too.

Finally, after spending a week in Arkansas visiting friends and family, we headed home. We covered 700 miles on the first day, and were we'll pleased with our progress. We had a great supper from Ruby Tuesday, and slept well. At about 5:30AM, I woke up and walked to the bathroom.

Apparently, at some point in the night, my darling wife morphed into Cato from the Pink Panther movies. So that our yappy little dog could not approach the door of the hotel room, she had placed the ironing board on it's side, on the ground to form a 'fence' of sorts blocking the dogs access to the door. Half asleep, and in the dark, I rediscovered the ironing board with my foot. I fell forward, catching my upper body with my hands, and rapping both shins very sharply on the narrow metel edge of the ironing board. Both shins. 220lbs of falling, middle aged, hypertensive redneck landing on his shins on a narrow metal ironing board. Let that soak in for a minute. A whole new kind of pain.

Happy New Year