Last week I wrote about our trip to Idaho. This week I will write about our trip home.
When you leave for a vacation is is like a good meal; you eat it slowly and appreciate everything. When you return from a vacation it is like a hitting the drive-through at two in the morning; you just want to get what you need and head home. Our trip home began Wednesday morning in Driggs, Idaho and did not end until we arrived in Dickinson, North Dakota late that night. I really wanted to avoid the gentle hospitality of the the Motel Six in Miles City, Montana and kind of â€œsoldâ€ our carload on the idea of making it to Dickinson. For this reason, and because I was the only man in the car-and driving; anything that happened thereafter became my responsibility.
Lisa suspected that my real ambition was to drive as far and as fast as time and my own consciousness would allow-she knew I wanted to go at least as far as Dickinson. As all vehicle occupants were asleep, I considered blowing right through town and heading for Bismarck, however that seemed deceitful so we stopped to find a room. The Bakken Oil formation has created a desperate need of residence for the hundreds of oil workers needed to tap this resource. Dickinson is about a two hour drive from from Williston but apparently that is a reasonable commute as every hotel had been sold for months. As we bounced from hotel to motel checking for vacancies, I could feel the naked hatred in the car grow for me as three very tired ladies questioned their decision to A. be my friend b. be my mother in-law or C. be my wife. We finally found a cancellation at the Holiday Inn and I was going to run outside to make sure the accommodations met the approval of all when I met another traveler inbound through the front door. Lisa reported that from her vantage point, I planted my foot, pirouetted on the same foot and went right back inside; which is what I did and immediately took the room.
We awoke with a new appreciation of what Joseph and Mary experienced, I also located a computer to check my email. Paul Maloney had agreed to stay at our house and cat-sit while we were gone. We all have a mutual friend in Adam Tongen who had visited Paul on Monday night while he care took Nelson Estates. Adam had sent me an email that told of a labor day with humor and enthusiasm which was comforting in that it made me know all was well at home. He and Paul had had a little cook-out, did some target shooting and cracked a few cold ones. Adam said the cattle watched he and Paul target shoot and actually seemed to enjoy it. He also said our very shy cat, Laine, had sat and watched Paul as he cooked. Laine avoids everyone, so she must have found something trustworthy in Paul, we did too.
We made it home Thursday morning. We unloaded our treasures and memories and collapsed in the house. Teresa had taken us to see some family ground near Felt, Idaho and scared us by driving near a huge gorge that borders that land. She thinks she is so funny when she can make â€œflatlandersâ€ squirm. She and Jeanette dug some potatoes that day which were part of the treasures we unloaded when we arrived home. Later we baked those Russet’s, dug from good Idaho ground, and thought about our adventures abroad. I felt like the character Woodrow Call from â€œLonesone Doveâ€ when he is asked about his life which brings about a stream of memorable images. I have my good memories too. It was a good trip.