Ah, yes, the fabled family day trip. Especially interesting when it involves my family- we're kind of odd. But loveable. :) I feel kind of badly going from the Pope to my weekend, but somebody requested it. So, on with the story.
I believe that it was sometime in the middle of last week, and I was innocently doing homework (or more likely watching TV or surfing the web), when my mom announced that we would be going up to my father's land on the weekend. You see, with the falling property prices in the late seventies, my father had purchased several plots of what can only be described as forest that bordered (well, not really bordered, but was sort of connected to) a small lake about four hours north of us. We visit occasionally, and Daddy proudly walks around and shows us the fire pit and the "Sacred Pine" (please, don't ask. I can't relive that experience). When I was little it was really fun, because the little third of an acre lots seemed much bigger and you could practically get lost in the trees. Now I pretty much just stay in the car because I don't like ticks. Or other sorts of bugs. Or a lot of trees, for that matter.
But wait- this time we would have a special mission! We were going to retrieve my dad's fishing boat and bring it home where it would probably languish in the backyard (looking oh so lovely, I'm sure) until my brother (who, despite not being a teenager yet, has decided that he wants the house when my parents kick off) dies and the house is presumably sold. Now, one must understand that this boat has been sitting in the woods for twenty-five years- long before my father even met my mother.
I looked at her uncomprehendingly for a few moments. Saturday?, I asked. My mother replied "Do you have anything going on?" Did I have anything going on? I didn't think so- I mean, I don't really have a life. But it was Saturday- a day traditionally reserved for sleeping and the like (especially since my annoying bio professor decided I could start coming to the labs at seven thirty A.M. Grrr.). I wasn't sure I could get out of that. But at the same time I didn't really want to stay home all day when I was 99% sure that they wouldn't allow me to drive anywhere while they were "out of town". And I do like going on road trips- even if they are only a few hours away. After throwing in a couple of comments like "Mom, they hadn't released the Iranian hostages the last time that boat was moved", or "Do you know how many diseases are on that thing?", I agreed, reluctantly acknowledging that I would not be able to sleep in until next Saturday- a very distant day that I could hardly comprehend.
I didn't understand, nor did I really care, how my father was planning on getting this boat home. (Or even why. We have a perfectly good boat already.) While we do drive a minivan, and a rather large one at that, I did not feel particularly comfortable with the idea of putting the boat on top of it and then driving home. (At least not through any counties where I know people...) I felt even less comfortable with the idea that I might actually have to help. I think my father felt rather uncomfortable with this, too, as he has taken to calling my sister and I "Paris and Nicole"- I'm not exactly good at working. I did resolve not to dwell on it, though, because chances are once my dad decides to do something (especially if it involves a sea-faring craft) he's going to do it even if it puts the entire family in jeopardy and he ends up lost within the breakwater---but I'm getting ahead of myself. That's a whole different story.
At some ungodly hour of the moring on Saturday we pull out of the driveway. I'm not happy- my hair is wet, it's supposed to get up to seventy degrees, I'm tired, and I get carsick as soon as we get on the expressway. (Come to think of it- I don't know exactly why my parents like doing things with me...) An Egg McMuffin shuts me up for awhile, though, and I'm pretty much fine for about two and a half hours. By this time, I have listened to every Josh Groban CD I have, am ready to kill Maroon 5 for recording "This Love" which is playing over and over in my head, and have just gotten out of a lovely bathroom that sold condoms. Ugh. Isn't our state wonderful???
Slight But Necessary Editorial: Why the hell is there only one Taco Bell across this entire state? Hmmm?? A lot of us don't like McDonalds, and there is nowhere else to go! There should be a mandatory Taco Bell at every exit- and a couple on the turnpikes out east. They really need them. In fact, Friday night I had a dream that we ended up on the turnpike and I couldn't have anything except brand-less fried chicken for the entire trip. Scary. Back to the topic, why does no one realize the incredbible need that this state has for cheap and tasty tacos??? Grrr.
Finally we arrive at the lot. It starts to rain. Hard. And I can tell by the look on my father's face that the boat is bigger than he remembered. I can see this going one of two ways- a.) the boat falls onto one of us and either causes severe or fatal bodily harm or b.) the boat falls on the car and scratches it, giving us a multiple hundred dollar repair bill. Either way, this isn't looking good. So we all troop out of the car because my mom mumbled something about weight shifting which I didn't totally understand, but I didn't feel like messing with a woman holding a knife and a large piece of wood. My dad and brother go into the woods to retrieve the boat and drag it out to the roadside, and I am handed a pair of gloves despite my early insistances that I will not be assisting in this endeavor. Whatever. Nobody listens to me.
Now, this is just a simple fishing/row boat, that looks relatively harmless and easily manouverable when it's lying on the ground. Not so when it's standing on end. It's twice as tall as my dad and really wide- I don't want that thing near the car, much less on top of it. As stated before, however, nobody listens to me. So Daddy, in his infinite wisdom, formulates a plan. Right here you can tel lsomething is goign to go wrong. The plan is as follows:
1.) Lean large boat up against the car.
2.) Place tiny little washcloths beneath the boat so it does not scratch the car.
3.) Stand behind the bloat and lift it up onto the car while wife and daughter "guide" it on the sides.
4.) Hear daughter scream when she realizes that the little white globs of spider eggs that used to be on the underside of the boat are now in her hair---that she just washed.
5.) Buy daughter (who made sure that everybody knew she would not be helping beforehand) a car and/or laptop that plays DVDs and burns CDS just for being so great. And some shampoo.
I added the last one. It hasn't been fulfilled yet. See, nobody listens to me!! Okay, so the boat is actually on top of the minivan. We all have a little sigh of relief, until we realize that this boat must then be secured well enough to drive home with it. Uh-huh. Sounds like fun, doesn it??
Yeah, I think this is when my mom started calling Dad "Clark Griswold". *sighs*
What follows can only be described as funny. My dad has to get down on the ground (which is now thoroughly soaked, because it's pouring) like underneath the car, and tie these little ropes to the bumpers and license plate thingy.
Meanwhile, crowded under the umbrella, my sister is having a revelation.
Sister: Why are we bringing this home?
Mother: Because Daddy and John want to go fishing.
Sister: What? Where?
Author: I'd just like to say at this moment I was thinking "Fishing? This thing would sink in a bathtub"
Mother: The river, you know, just down the road from us.
Sister: *has a heart attack* What????? That river???? Mom, I know people. The entire track team is going to see them!! *has another heart attack- bigger this time*
Sister then proceeds to do a rather funny imitation of the entire track team running past the river and noticing their classmates dad and brother "fishing" in a not-quite-seaworthy boat. I'm still laughing.
This continues in the same vein until my father picks himself up off the ground (sopping wet now) and annouces that we're ready to go. My sister shuts up long enough to get in the car, and my mother glances nervously at the boat perches precariously on two pieces of wood. I think she muttered something about the Griswold family, but I can't be sure.
So, despite all evidence to the contrary, we arrived home safely (even finding a Taco Bell...after like three hours of searching...grrr.). And then had to the boat off the top of the car, which was almost as funny as getting it o, because it was nine o'clock at night and the flashlight kept dying.
I'm not even kidding. :)
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