Trena Eiden

Last spring, as we drove back to Wyoming from Florida, we went through Little Rock, and the first thing we passed was Toad Suck Park, a recreation area. Apparently, the town council couldn’t possibly think of one other grouping of words to call their project, or they gave the naming assignment to middle school boys.  

Gar spends the winters by some of our kids in either Lake Jackson, Texas, or Pace, Florida. I drive across country with him, help him get the RV set up, enjoy our grands, then fly home to work. In the spring, I fly down and make the return trip with him.

I generally do the driving and Gar navigates because I cannot, on threat of death, tell you how far 600 feet is. When Google or Apple Maps say such ridiculous nonsense, I rely on my trusty squeeze to say, “Go through this light then turn left.” He doesn’t add, “How can you be so inept?” At one point he said, “If you get tired of driving, I’ll trade you.” I shook my head, “I’m good, plus I like blaming your navigating for all the petty problems I’ve ever had.”  

At one point, I was sandwiched between two semis. The one behind pulled alongside me, then got back behind me, pulled up again, then behind, then up. I turned and frowned at him and he slowed back down. As I sped away, I’m pretty sure he thought, “I’m glad she left me. I didn’t know her well, but well enough to know I don’t want to know her better.”  

Traveling through the majestic Ozarks, I saw a dark lump ahead on the highway. Reaching it, I realized it was moving, so at 80 mph, I maneuvered to straddle the turtle. I turned to Gar, “Ya, low to the ground, broad through the backside, short chubby legs hurrying without progress, he was practically my twin.”  

That night we stayed at a Marriot in Salina, Kansas. There were no king beds left so we sacrificed and snuggled in a queen. Knowing the Marriot did not provide a free breakfast, upon checking in, I inquired of our clerk, Jenna, what it would take to get free breakfast vouchers? She replied, “Well, there’d have to be an issue.” I stared her down so she went on, “And I’m very sorry about the trouble you’re going to have with that TV.” I love this country and Jenna. As Doc Holiday quipped, “I have not yet begun to defile myself.”  

As we headed south this past January, we made it to Childress, Texas, but there were no rooms. A data center was being built and 1,100 working men were staying in all hotels in the area. A Hilton call center found us a room in Vernon, Texas, at the Green Bird Inn. After 600 miles and 11 hours in the truck, I had to ask for wipes to scrub the bathroom, asked for reinforcements to fix the TV and had to unplug the heater and plug it back in to have heat. How bad was it? Well, “Mr. Never Lock A Door” locked all three on ours and laid his pistol on the nightstand. As I scrubbed the tub, he called out a preposterous notion, “I dunno, we’ve probably stayed in worse.” I came around the corner of the bathroom to stare at him and inquire, “Maybe you’ve stayed in worse, with a redhead possibly?” He raised his eyebrows like, “Maybe.” I said, “Well, if she can cook, you should bring her home.”  

I texted friends and family about our sleeping establishment and my cousin texted back that one time in Salt Lake City during March Madness, there were no rooms anywhere. She and her aging mother finally found a funky motel in a bad area, and it was between them and a trucker for the last room. Since he had a sleeper, he offered them the room. Lying in the same bed at 3 a.m., with neither of them sleeping, her mom said into the darkness, “We should have taken the sleeper.”    

The next night at a Hampton Inn, we found a lady bug residing on our bed, and thought maybe she was for luck. But maybe she was there because it was cold outside and she’s not a total numbskull.  

The next morning, we looked at our atlas and knew we’d make it to Pace and our kids that night. Gar can never remember Siri on his phone or Alexa at home, so at breakfast, he spoke into his phone, “Iris, text Tanner.” Oddly enough, she did not respond.