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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