Mile 62, Our Forest, Washington State.
Going to Uncle Stevie’s birthday party. Backseat of Mom & Dad’s car.
Around the turn of the millennium Bridgette and I were driving to Spoke late at night.
It was summer and we were probably on our way to see our Grandma and Grandpa, who both died around this time. We had both done the trip many times before and since it was night we would not being stopping at all the little towns to thrift shop. We loaded up with all the essentials: tapes, a 6-pack of Coke, Ritz Crackers, Spray Cheese. And we were off.
The reservoir was not too far behind us and we were talking and singing and making cheese-n-crackers. I can’t remember which of us was driving, but all the sudden we both screamed – realizing that we hadn’t seen the sharp turn we were missing. The driver yanked the steering wheel sharp to the left and pulled us back onto the road just in time to not fly off into the trees.
Further on, once you climb the hill after the Columbia it’s a straight shot to Spokane. That drive across the farm fields, listening to Mexican radio late at night in hot weather, is perfect.