Saturday, June 13, 2015

My Entourage is the Crap in my Car

Living in wild, mountain country means having a car full of crap. I’m not referring to the wadded up McDonald’s bag with a half-eaten bag of fries in it lying on the floor. Or the dirty sock that fell out of your gym bag. Not even the homework that mysteriously was misplaced under the seat by your third-grader.

Serious mountain dwellers could live out of their vehicle for weeks (and often do). At last check my truck had in it:

Snowshoes
Sleeping Bag & pillow
Three pair of boots (hiking, snow and wellies)
Two coats, winter hat & gloves
Two gallons of water
Solar/wind-up lantern
Axe
Emergency food & matches
Fishing pole and necessary gear to go with it
Knife
Inflatable river inner tube
Tool kit, shovel, snow broom
Emergency bottle of whiskey (which means unopened)
Small cooler
Coffee mug
Teddy Bear (place bear and the knife on the passenger seat when traveling alone and people will think you’re crazy and leave you alone. This especially works for lone ladies if you drive in boxer shorts and grungy t-shirt and don’t brush your hair.)
Coffee mug

Yesterday I realized I had been driving around for a couple months without the key member of my Entourage. I was traumatized by my failure as a mountain woman. Without this I could be in immediate danger in an emergency situation. I had NO coffee. The mug was rattling around under the backseat, but nowhere in my truck could I find coffee. I was like a rapper without my peeps. A CEO without an assistant. A bull without a herd of cows.

I immediately went to the grocery store and remedied the disaster waiting to happen. Later George and I took my truck when we went out for dinner.

He looked in the backseat (why he does this I have no idea…he knows better). “What’s in all the sacks?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Well…now I do.”

“It won’t be good for your blood pressure.” I warn him.

“Let’s see.  Looks like 5, 10, 15 pounds of coffee. Filters. A 4-cup coffeemaker, a coffee-press, a Keurig coffeemaker and six boxes of K-cups.”

“It’s nothing really, honey.” I speed up, hoping to get to the restaurant before George asks any more questions.

“Did all our machines break at once? Was there a sale? At least tell me there’s a sane explanation.”

“It’s for my truck, in case of emergency.”

“I suppose the next time you travel alone the teddy bear will be holding the knife in one hand and making coffee in the Keurig with the other.”

“Wow, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Could you hurry up, I need a double-scotch.”


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