driving and memories

The first time I ever drove a car was not in a parking lot, but on a road. I was 14 years old. Neither of my parents was with me, either. It was just me and my oldest sister. I don't know why my dad wouldn't have come with me, but for some reason, neither of my parents were there. It was in the back country of Utah and it was quite exciting. Finally, I could be like a grownup!

The occasion was my grandpa's 75th birthday. We had a family reunion, and we all stayed in a barn in the town where he grew up for a few days. The barn had been converted into a big vacation home of sorts and had several rooms and bathrooms, along with a big loft upstairs. I didn't like that there were beetles and some other bugs in the rooms. I remember being horrified, in fact. Looking back, with newfound bug perspective, a beetle here and there for that location and a place is basically a drop in the bug bucket.

It had been an otherwise not-the-best vacation for me. The highlight of it all was giving Grandpa a ruby ring for his 75th birthday, and eating the cake that had the little fisherman on top of it. Other highlights were Uncle B teaching me how to play pinochle (which I have completely forgotten how to play, as I have never played it since) and having my cousin, who was great at doing hair even back then, give my mom a break from giving me fancy hairdos.

Lowlights included a horrible hike, sleeping on cots with all my girl cousins upstairs, when all I really wanted was to sleep the entire time--in a bed--and ignore everyone, and being afraid I was going to die because of the way Grandpa drove while also being worried my cousin was going to wet herself on me because it had been such a long car ride and we were also basically stuck together with sweat as she sat on my lap.

That hike was horrible. It was hot. HOT! The hike was Calf Creek Falls. I brought a little backpack full of water and a few snacks and it was like working overtime just to go each step. I think the hike was rated "intermediate" in some hiking book Mom picked up...but let me tell you: no way. We got to the waterfall and I didn't even get in because I thought about how my jeans would be super heavy with water and sand and detritus and sloggy and give me rub burns and be uncomfortably moist if I did get in, and I decided against it. I stopped for as short a time I could and drank a water bottle and then started back. My other cousins hadn't brought any food or water and they were dying. I felt like it was the parable of the 10 virgins, only it wasn't a parable, and it was water, not oil for lamps. I also felt like I was going to meet the Bridegroom -- meaning, I was about to perish. There was a point where I was on autopilot. I felt I could not stop because if I did, I literally would not get going again. I was walking with a cousin of mine and another plead for us to stop but I could not. Could not. Seriously.

Grandpa M forgot his heart medicine that day, so he was going extra slow. I don't think he made it. Gosh, I was 14, not 75, and I didn't have a heart condition, and I barely made it. I remember seeing some German people, and some ancient carvings on the canyon walls, and how hot my feet felt, and how the sand kept me slipping and sliding. I remember feeling pity for some dogs that people brought along with them. Tons of fur, in what was probably upwards of 100 degrees F, with no water?! Cruelty to animals! I think it made my little sis cry.

The saving grace was Auntie M, who had some soda in her car (I called it the turtle van) and drove in the parking lots and shuttled people back and forth. She, in her infinite wisdom, did not choose to subject herself to the trauma of the experience.

I threatened every person in the car with bodily injury if they even so much as /thought/ about sneaking into the shower before I could get there. I'm not a violent person, but this is one of the few times in my life where I made a threat of physical harm and was fairly sure I would actually act on it. I think they could tell I meant serious business, so they all backed off. My shirt -- which I actually still have (a blue-and-white checked short sleeved button-up affair from Lands' End back before it became Sears) was stiff with sweat. I thought the possibility of that happening was something to read about in books. Nope. It's a real thing.

So, those are my family reunion memories.

As a side note:
Almost no shower has ever felt as good to me as the one that I took the day of that hike. The only ones that might top it are:
(1) when my sisters and I came home from stake Girls Camp a night early (best idea ever) and I showered at like 1am. I can't remember why I was so grimy, but I know there was literal dirt involved.
(2) the shower after traveling all day in a car on the way to Phoenix in June with eight people and no air conditioning. This one last one would probably take the cake except the pipes were too close to the ground and so the one time I wanted a cold shower, I couldn't even get one! Lukewarm was as cold as it would go.
(3) the bath/shower I took after getting lost in Central Park in the stinging rain.

I would love it if in the comments those who were on that trip chime in and share any memories they have of that trip!