Fallon is about seven and half hours away from Cedar City, depending on who is driving. It is a journey, and when you are in a two door Honda Civic, which is about the size of a large suitcase, the drive is so much more enjoyable. Every minute counts, because the spacious room of my civic only allows so much sanity. Then you have to consider the price of gas and believe it or not, the route you take makes a considerable difference in both happiness and cash flow. But, we drive.
On the way home of Easter weekend, I decided that Steven should drive. He has made the trip before, plus I thought he and his woman would rather sit shotgun than the backseat, which forces you to gnaw on your knee caps. Mowgli and I fell asleep before we were out of Cedar. I woke up about an hour and half later to the landscape of Caliente, Nevada. This is not our usual route. Gas is more expensive, speed limits are slower, and cops more prevalent. I am a little annoyed. A mistake, but thirty minutes added to the drive seemed like the doctor asking for half gallon of blood. After my irritation ebbs away, we drive. The drive goes on without incident.
We spend two days in the Silver state, until it is time for us to come home on Easter morn. That is when things got dicey.
We reach Ely Nevada, a wretched town, like so many others that litter the barren desert. Mowgli and I are tired once again. We figure Esta-Bon can drive. -- The fastest way to Cedar from Ely is to take route 93. Steven knows this. If he does not, then I do not know how he made it home for holidays. We drive.
I wake up about an hour and half outside of Ely (seems like that is my nap time limit), to a landscape I have seen only once in my life, but like my ancestors, the Algonquin Indians, I remember mother earth and her curves. I remember my home land and the way to and from. I never forget. I know that we are heading east (if you blind fold me, beat me over the head, and take me down into a basement, I promise I can tell you where east is). We are on the road that leads to Delta, Utah. Over a hundred miles past our turn off. I know this because our odometer says so. I think, this isn't happening. I am in some kind of movie. Or a sick dream..... We drive.
I ask Steven where we are at. He has no idea. Complete bliss. I ask him if he turned onto route 93. He says there was no turn off (there is, unless mother earth swallowed it). They never saw a sign (there is, I threw a full soda can at it once). There was too much rain they said (wiper blades). Missing the turn off didn't seem to really bother either of them. NBD.
At that very moment, my insides ignite. I am on fire. My brain is burning hot. My fists are clenched. I know that I am mad because the car is suddenly shrinking and it feels like my eyes are going to fall out of their sockets. I need to get out of the car before it catches fire.
We are past the point of no return, too far away to turn back. We must continue on to Delta and then to Cedar, adding two more hours to our expedition. No apology is given. Mowgli and I will drive.
I get into the front seat, and it is in that moment that I transform into a compete jackass. I play the card of passive aggressive. I felt that would be the most stinging. Finally, outside of Hinckley, it happens, the blow up. --He yells. --I relish in it. I keep my voice calm, at an aggravating even keel. Silence fills the car as the only female raises her cry, turning back the wolves who were about to feast on each others flesh. I swear under my breath that this drive will never end. We drive.
Nine and a half hours later we arrive in Cedar. The drive comes to a stop. I reminisce in the finals minutes, after I drop off Steven, but before I go back to my lonely apartment with Lynx. This will be a great memory, someday. I will laugh. We will drive again together.
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