5:57 a.m. - Monday, Aug. 05, 2002
Ms Leslie and the road trip
My brain is changing. Physically. I think it might be growing breasts of its own; or at least some kind of new lobes, or nodes, or lumps, bumps and grooves.

My trip with Ann to take her two grandsons back to mom in Michigan was slated to begin on Friday morning. With nearly two hundred thousand miles on it, her Quest has become mechanically unreliable. It�s let her down in the middle of the last two previous trips. My van, although it has a newly rebuilt engine, has no air conditioning, so Ann decided to take up her son�s offer of his newer Ford Escort for the trip. A tad bit small, but probably more reliable than either of our cars. So far, so good.

I couldn�t explain it, but all day Thursday, the day before we were to leave, I had a bad feeling about the trip. Logically, it was all worked out. All I needed to do was wash some clothes and clean the house a little bit so it would be nice to come home to. But for the life of me, I couldn�t get started. I pissed the time away (seated, of course) until the wee hours on Friday. Then, with only moments to spare, I did my laundry and packed for the trip. I arrived at her house at a little after seven, only to find that she and the boys were only in the first stages of getting up and dressed. It seems like no one really wanted to go anywhere that day. Eventually, Ann took her Quest to the convenience store where her new daughter-in-law had the Escort, made the swap and brought the Escort back to the house. Getting bitchy from the bad feeling now, I couldn�t find much right with our trip car. Yes, it was newer and had fewer miles, but it was small, the seats and carpet were stained and dirty, and it reeked of old cigarette smoke inside. And if I listened really close, I thought I could hear a rattle or something.

But the die was cast already. Our luggage was in the trunk. The boys were already nodding in the tiny back seat. It was a quarter after eight and we still had to go to the bank to get money and stop for the oil change that Ann had agreed to get prior to the long drive. So, pushing that bad feeling aside, I settled into the passenger seat for the short ride to the bank. When we got to the ATM, Ann discovered that her ATM card was missing. That was the start of a new and unanticipated leg of our journey, as she had to go back to the Quest and then home again in search of the missing ATM. When she couldn�t find it, we went to the last bank she had used it at to write a check and ask if they had picked up her card out of their ATM. Her oldest boy, Nick, who had been unusually quiet so far, managed to hold his tongue about feeling queasy right up until the moment Ann pulled up to the drive-in window at the bank. At that point, having waited too long to say he felt ill, he began puking in the back seat while Ann was trying to write her check and inquire about her card. The back door was, of course, child-locked, so poor Nick was trapped in the seat for a good portion of his regurgitory event before we could get the door open to let him puke in the driveway of the bank. With money in hand, we threw a towel over the slimy wet spot and drove the next unplanned leg of our journey over to the grocery store to pick up some Emetrol for Nick�s nausea, Coming out of the store, I noticed that the tags on the Escort had expired a few days ago and questioned Ann as to how eager she was to explain to a Kentucky Highway Patrolman how it was that she was driving an unregistered car belonging to someone who wasn�t in the car and, considering her son�s debonair attitude about the legalities in life, may not have even yet been transferred to his name.

So�. Having already filled the gas tank, we went back to the store and re-swapped cars, explaining that we felt it was better to take the old Quest after all. Of course, by the time we were re-loaded into the Quest, Ann was about drug out, so she asked me to drive. When I turned onto the road, I found the steering pulled to the right with a might that was previously unknown. Ann informed me it had been pulling to the right for quite some time, but as I drove towards the highway out of town, I just couldn�t imagine making the entire trip this way. So, after considering our options, we hit on the idea of renting a car. Another ride back into town, only to find that the rental place I had in mind had changed locations. Back to the place from which we had just come to another rental place we had seen on the way to the rental place that was now closed, and then into the new rental place, only to discover that renting a car for three days would only cost $60.00, but the excess mileage, at a quarter a mile, would run us another several hundred dollars.

By now, and by that I mean after noon, Ann�s son David has heard that we returned his car and called his mom on her cell phone to find out why. After a short discussion, it�s decided that we should go back to the Escort, re-load into it, take it to City Hall to renew the registration, go get the oil changed, and then take it to Michigan. Fine. In the meantime, Nick is drinking Emetrol like lemonade and puking with his head out the window at every stoplight. We�re trying hard to believe that it�s just motion sickness from the early morning, coupled with his breakfast of nothing but Coca Cola, but after a stop at McDonald�s for a heartier breakfast of cinnamon rolls and orange juice, it�s getting more and more plain that he�s a hurting unit and really shouldn�t be on a road trip today. SO� we all go home. The boys� mother is called and instructed to meet us the next day in Bowling Green Kentucky, where we�ll hand over the boys, assuming the car runs and Nick doesn�t die overnight. We take them home and go get the car registered and oiled for its trip. By four in the afternoon, we�re understanding that this car is in pretty good shape and we have an excellent chance of making the trip if we wait until Saturday to do it.

Later that night, from the warmth of my bed, I listen to the spectacular thunder and lightning of an intense front of thunderstorms moving from north to south all night.

Now, what�s the point of all this? If you�ve read this far, you deserve to know.

I�ve never paid any attention to my �feelings�. I�ve always gone by logic. This trip was a first exercise for me in feeling my feelings, acknowledging them, trusting them, and acting on them. Oh sure� I eventually had to be beaten over the head by them, but still, it was interesting to see how the day played out when I tried to ignore the feeling and press on. It just got worse and worse until I had to give in. And that�s how my brain is changing. I�m losing a lot of my logic or problem solving ability. Here�s an example�.. Ann�s son told us later that the reason the Quest was pulling to the right?� it was because the right front tire had no air in it. Less than five pounds. Now honestly, I�ve never gone on a trip without at least kicking the tires, and if a car pulls to the right, I know to wonder about a flat tire. Honest� I know this stuff. But it�s going away. I�m thinking less and feeling more.

This is really scary.

Our trip, by the way, went without a hitch the following day. Nick felt fine, the car ran great, and we slept pretty well that in a Day�s Inn motel at exit 22 off I65 in Bowling Green, KY which was casual at best in it�s approach to the travellers� service industry.

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