Idaho

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.