Barb, this one is for you. The ATV story.
About ten years ago, my friend Barbara invited me to go home with her to Idaho. Of course, I said yes. I am not my mother's daughter for nothing.....have bag, will travel.
We began our trip by visiting her sisters and their families in Boise. Starved after a long plane ride and inedible airline food, we went through the drive-thru at the local Taco Bell. So far, not really so different from being home. She showed me Paul Revere's house. More reminders of home. How much more east coast can you get? (Okay, so it was Paul Revere from the 1960's rock group, not the Paul Revere). We attended a Shakespearean play. Just like being at the Folger Theater in DC, except this was outdoors and you needed a sweater, jacket and blanket to keep from freezing to death before the final curtain call and it was the middle of July. Frostbite aside, I was beginning to feel that Dorothy was wrong. Maybe everyplace was like home.
Downtown business area? Check. Suburbs? Check. Charmingly Idahoan, but at the same time, not really so different from home. Her one sister even had a weekend house in the mountains, which we visited over the weekend. And here is where things started to go west.
Having grown up in the mountains of Northeastern PA, and vacationing in the Catskills, I thought I had seen mountains before. Not even close.
Our first day, we went four wheeling, careening wildly through the rugged hillside with a devil-may-care attitude. Okay, so we hit a top speed of five miles per hour with me on the back, hanging on for dear life, praying we wouldn't plunge over some precipice and be eaten by wolves. We did, however, sing "Born to be Wild" at the top of our lungs, which, in retrospect, probably scared away any hungry carnivores as well as any other humans.
Returning triumphantly to the cabin, I agreed to go off again with Barb's neice who was about ten. She wanted to show me where she and her cousins played. Since I was now an expert at the whole four-wheeling thing, I agreed, and we headed off into the wild. And this is where things started to go south.
Stephanie directed me some distance away to a large rock formation. She showed me how they pretended the crevices were rooms in their "house". She also showed me prints, and not the Andy Warhol, Ansel Adams kind. These were bear prints, elk prints, wolf prints. These were BIG prints.
Casually suggesting that we might want to return to the cabin since it was near dinnertime, I strolled to the ATV and fired up the engine. Okay, so I sprinted to the thing like an Olympic runner going for the gold, dragging Stephanie with me. I then proceeded to flood the engine, turning our only means of escape into a giant Ritz cracker with us being the cheese whiz for the hungry predators I was sure lurked in the bushes, drooling.
Being about as mechanically inclined as I am an avid outdoorsman, I pressed every button and pedal, I turned and twisted every knob, I got off and pushed it. I even kicked it. Nothing. We were doomed to be a two course dinner for some big, hairy animal with lots of teeth if the moose and elk didn't get us first. (I'm not sure what they would do to us, but I was certain it wouldn't be good).
Stephanie, on the other hand, seemed to be cheerfully unconcerned about our dire situation. As I scouted out trees with low-hanging branches for easier climbing, and worried about who would inherit my magnet collection, she chatted on blithly about camping and exploring and what fun there was to be had here in the Cascades. Didn't she know she was about to die?
Finally, after several more attempts, prayers, under-my-breath curses and full-blown panic attacks, the ATV engine sputtered to life, whisking us back to the safety of the cabin.
Definitely not like home.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Car Phone
A while back, my husband purchased a new car complete with a car phone. This is his third. Phone, not car. This rounds out his collection nicely.......car phone, cell phone and blackberry. Some people collect art, some rare books, my husband collects phones.
Ah, but this is different, even necessary, he claimed. This allows him to talk on the phone while driving, hands-free. It even has voice command, so he can dial without having to take his eyes off the road for a split second. It is easier, safer, and makes life better.
Easier? Faster than a speeding bullet, able to program any cell phone in a single instant......look, it's Tim. And this phone was kryptonite. First, a lesson from the salesman. Hit this button, pull this lever and talk. See? What could be simpler?
Several days, a trip or two back to the dealer and one shredded instruction book later, he had the names and numbers of family and friends installed, easy as pie. He also had the salesman's name and number installed whether he wanted it or not, since it was used as the test entry. We still call him occasionally. But not on purpose . Which brings us to safer.
Yes, he can make a call without having the distraction of holding a phone and pushing buttons. Just a flick of a lever, a simple command,"Dial name", and he is making the world a better place. A woman's voice calmly asks, "name please?". And then all hell breaks loose.
Tim says his brother's name. The phone calls his sister. He says his sister's name. It calls his cooworker. The names sound nothing alike, but it doesn't seem to matter to this phone. Willy-nilly, it randomly places calls. It's sort of like playing Wheel of Fortune. You never know whether you are getting the trip to Hawaii, or going bankrupt. Come to think of it, the voice does sound a little bit like Vanna......
Tim's response to this is to 1. push frantically at the end button twelve to thirteen times while shouting, "NO!!!!!" 2. jerk the lever abruptly and, loudly and with ennunciation that would make Henry Higgins weep for joy, repeat his request. 3. repeat steps one and two, changing the tone and pitch of his voice each time sounding like everyone from James Earl Jones to Tiny Tim.
When steps 1,2,and 3 fail to get results, he begins to add colorful words and phrases to his request, suggesting things that are not anatomically possible. Vanna, of course, remains calm throughout. She asks him, "Please repeat." It only goes downhill from there. So much for safer.
When he does hit the jackpot and is connected to the person he actually wanted to call, we invariably ride throuh a dead zone and watch in dismay as the signal bars click down to nothing. You do not want to know what happens then.
Yeah, easier, safer and better.
Ah, but this is different, even necessary, he claimed. This allows him to talk on the phone while driving, hands-free. It even has voice command, so he can dial without having to take his eyes off the road for a split second. It is easier, safer, and makes life better.
Easier? Faster than a speeding bullet, able to program any cell phone in a single instant......look, it's Tim. And this phone was kryptonite. First, a lesson from the salesman. Hit this button, pull this lever and talk. See? What could be simpler?
Several days, a trip or two back to the dealer and one shredded instruction book later, he had the names and numbers of family and friends installed, easy as pie. He also had the salesman's name and number installed whether he wanted it or not, since it was used as the test entry. We still call him occasionally. But not on purpose . Which brings us to safer.
Yes, he can make a call without having the distraction of holding a phone and pushing buttons. Just a flick of a lever, a simple command,"Dial name", and he is making the world a better place. A woman's voice calmly asks, "name please?". And then all hell breaks loose.
Tim says his brother's name. The phone calls his sister. He says his sister's name. It calls his cooworker. The names sound nothing alike, but it doesn't seem to matter to this phone. Willy-nilly, it randomly places calls. It's sort of like playing Wheel of Fortune. You never know whether you are getting the trip to Hawaii, or going bankrupt. Come to think of it, the voice does sound a little bit like Vanna......
Tim's response to this is to 1. push frantically at the end button twelve to thirteen times while shouting, "NO!!!!!" 2. jerk the lever abruptly and, loudly and with ennunciation that would make Henry Higgins weep for joy, repeat his request. 3. repeat steps one and two, changing the tone and pitch of his voice each time sounding like everyone from James Earl Jones to Tiny Tim.
When steps 1,2,and 3 fail to get results, he begins to add colorful words and phrases to his request, suggesting things that are not anatomically possible. Vanna, of course, remains calm throughout. She asks him, "Please repeat." It only goes downhill from there. So much for safer.
When he does hit the jackpot and is connected to the person he actually wanted to call, we invariably ride throuh a dead zone and watch in dismay as the signal bars click down to nothing. You do not want to know what happens then.
Yeah, easier, safer and better.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Travel With Dad
My father was in the navy and saw the world. Therefore, he doesn't need to ever leave home again. Pyramids still there? Seen 'em. Eiffel Tower? Check. Vesuvius still puffing away? Been there, done that.
Of course, this attitude drives my mother crazy. They have a new Starbucks in Berlin? Let's go. Target opened in Melbourne? Need to check it out. A new painting was hung in the Louvre? She's there.
And so, for the last several years, my mom has hopped on various planes, trains and automobiles and covered five out of the seven continents with various family and friends while my dad has contentedly sat home experiencing it all through the magic of TV and the Travel Channel.
Finally, two years ago, we figured out a way to get my dad to actually experience the joy of modern day travel first hand.......an anniversary gift. There was no way he could refuse if it was a gift, right? Wrong. He tried everything from claiming he couldn't take off from work (the man has not had a vacation since the Nixon administration) to the house not being there when he got back(okay, so this one almost really happened...a small brush fire in nearby woods that came a bit close....coincidence or ???? hmmmmm. No,no,no).
When his excuses fell on deaf ears, he changed tactics. He whined. The seats are too small and there is not enough leg room for a man of his height. The flights are too long and there is nothing to eat on them. The movies are lousy(he was really reaching with that one, but he was desperate by then). And then came the coup de gras. The airline would lose his luggage( of course they would...this is, after all, modern day travel).
A full month of phone calls detailing the luggage plight followed. One big bag, or two smaller ones? Definitely a carry-on, but how big could it be? His was twenty-two inches, but the airline only allowed a twenty inch bag. Did that mean they would take it away from him? If so, what was the point of taking a carry-on? How would he replace his posessions when his bags were sucked into the black hole of luggage hell? After all, our destination was the ends of the earth, a place where no civilized man had ever gone before...Vegas!
Fortunately, for all concerned (meaning me, my husband and my mother), the luggage made it to our destination. He got on with his grossly oversized carry-0n and those extra two inches of baggage didn't cause the plane to plummet to the earth over a corn field in Kansas. Although after the whole house-not-standing incident.... Hmmm. No, no,no.
Flushed with the success of our first venture, we struck out again last year for San Diego. After the requisite month of anguish and angst over luggage, flight schedules, seating, etc., we all enjoyed a few days of R&R in beautiful southern California. And then disaster struck. A cancelled flight, missed connection, a night in a Chicago airport hotel where the AC was not working and the windows didn't open. Eeekkkk!
Was this the end of family travel? Would my mother have to throw herself on the mercy of friends and family whenever she wanted to leave home? Was the very thread of civilization coming unraveled?
Boldly, we made plans again for this year. It is still two weeks out, but the calls have begun. We have a direct flight, so no missed connections. We have business class tickets (oddly enough, they were cheaper than coach...I think this is the cosmos way of saying we will be blown out by a freak hurricane when we arrive at out destination). So what is left to worry about?
Bedbugs. Apparently, there has been an outbreak of bedbugs at hotels here on the east coast, and due to the early morning departure time, my parents and sister(we finally suckered her into coming along) will have to spend the night at an airport hotel.
Did you know that you can't see the little devils and they will only come out at night, after you are asleep and then it's "party time"!!!! They belly up to the smorgasboard and feast until dawn, and you don't even know you've been the main course until it's too late.
So, he's thinking of spraying the sheets with Deet, except that if he puts it in his luggage it will get lost, or his carry-on will explode midway through the flight, or..........stay tuned for next year!
Of course, this attitude drives my mother crazy. They have a new Starbucks in Berlin? Let's go. Target opened in Melbourne? Need to check it out. A new painting was hung in the Louvre? She's there.
And so, for the last several years, my mom has hopped on various planes, trains and automobiles and covered five out of the seven continents with various family and friends while my dad has contentedly sat home experiencing it all through the magic of TV and the Travel Channel.
Finally, two years ago, we figured out a way to get my dad to actually experience the joy of modern day travel first hand.......an anniversary gift. There was no way he could refuse if it was a gift, right? Wrong. He tried everything from claiming he couldn't take off from work (the man has not had a vacation since the Nixon administration) to the house not being there when he got back(okay, so this one almost really happened...a small brush fire in nearby woods that came a bit close....coincidence or ???? hmmmmm. No,no,no).
When his excuses fell on deaf ears, he changed tactics. He whined. The seats are too small and there is not enough leg room for a man of his height. The flights are too long and there is nothing to eat on them. The movies are lousy(he was really reaching with that one, but he was desperate by then). And then came the coup de gras. The airline would lose his luggage( of course they would...this is, after all, modern day travel).
A full month of phone calls detailing the luggage plight followed. One big bag, or two smaller ones? Definitely a carry-on, but how big could it be? His was twenty-two inches, but the airline only allowed a twenty inch bag. Did that mean they would take it away from him? If so, what was the point of taking a carry-on? How would he replace his posessions when his bags were sucked into the black hole of luggage hell? After all, our destination was the ends of the earth, a place where no civilized man had ever gone before...Vegas!
Fortunately, for all concerned (meaning me, my husband and my mother), the luggage made it to our destination. He got on with his grossly oversized carry-0n and those extra two inches of baggage didn't cause the plane to plummet to the earth over a corn field in Kansas. Although after the whole house-not-standing incident.... Hmmm. No, no,no.
Flushed with the success of our first venture, we struck out again last year for San Diego. After the requisite month of anguish and angst over luggage, flight schedules, seating, etc., we all enjoyed a few days of R&R in beautiful southern California. And then disaster struck. A cancelled flight, missed connection, a night in a Chicago airport hotel where the AC was not working and the windows didn't open. Eeekkkk!
Was this the end of family travel? Would my mother have to throw herself on the mercy of friends and family whenever she wanted to leave home? Was the very thread of civilization coming unraveled?
Boldly, we made plans again for this year. It is still two weeks out, but the calls have begun. We have a direct flight, so no missed connections. We have business class tickets (oddly enough, they were cheaper than coach...I think this is the cosmos way of saying we will be blown out by a freak hurricane when we arrive at out destination). So what is left to worry about?
Bedbugs. Apparently, there has been an outbreak of bedbugs at hotels here on the east coast, and due to the early morning departure time, my parents and sister(we finally suckered her into coming along) will have to spend the night at an airport hotel.
Did you know that you can't see the little devils and they will only come out at night, after you are asleep and then it's "party time"!!!! They belly up to the smorgasboard and feast until dawn, and you don't even know you've been the main course until it's too late.
So, he's thinking of spraying the sheets with Deet, except that if he puts it in his luggage it will get lost, or his carry-on will explode midway through the flight, or..........stay tuned for next year!
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