Take Me for a Ride
Pat D.
"Take me for a ride in your car, car."
"Josh?"
"Take me for a ride in your car, car."
"Josh?"
"Take me for a ride, take me for a ride.
I'll take you for a ride in my car, car."
"Josh!"
"Don't shout. You're scaring the baby."
"Not as much as you are with that caterwauling."
"Well, what do you expect me to do back here? Larry isn't exactly
a sparkling conversationalist."
"That's gotta be the tenth time you've sung the same song in the last
hour."
"He likes it when I make the engine sound-brurrrrrp, brurp."
"Just vary the repertoire before I dump you at the next rest stop."
"No problem.
The itsy, bitsy spider went up the waterspout.
Down came the rain and washed the spider out."
"Josh?"
"Out came the sun and dried up all the rain."
"Josh?"
"And the itsy, bitsy spider went up the spout again."
"Josh!"
"Now what's the matter?"
"Do you have to do the hand thing?"
"The song doesn't work without the hand thing. It helps to imprint
the concept of spider on the child's brain."
"I don't want my son growing up with that image imprinted on his
brain."
"Sure, like maybe he will actually not be afraid of spiders as an
adult."
"My apprehension was fully justified. It had all the markings of
a deadly Brown Recluse. Besides it was an extremely large spider."
"Sam, keep your eyes on the road, please. I don't want to spend this
vacation in the hospital."
"Well, we're almost there anyway."
"That's what you said an hour ago. Where exactly are we supposed to
be going?"
"It's a surprise. Toby said it's a great place to relax with a
really fantastic view. He even gave me the directions."
"Toby gave you the directions. Let me recap: Toby Zeigler, a man who
doesn't know how to get to Wesley, Connecticut, gave Sam Seaborn, a
guy who couldn't recognize Wesley, Connecticut if it jumped up and
bit him, directions on how to get to a secret hide-away? Dear God,
we're lost."
"We are not lost. I'm merely taking the scenic route. Sit back and
enjoy the drive."
"Sam, tell me you know where we're going."
"I do know where we're going. I just don't know where we are."
"Pull over."
"No, we'll be there in a few minutes. I'm almost positive."
"Sam, pull over or so help me you will never be able to father
another child."
"Are you by any chance channeling Toby?"
"No, but that is exactly what you will be doing as soon as we stop.
You are calling Toby and telling him to get us out of here."
"That's going to be difficult."
"Dare I ask why?"
"Because he doesn't know where we are. So he can't possibly tell us
how to get back to where we are supposed to be."
"Okay. What if we backtrack to the last freeway exit and he can
guide us from there?"
"No he can't."
"Let me guess, you didn't pack the cell phones."
"Josh, I wanted this to be a real vacation with no interruptions for
once."
"So the United States of America can go to hell in a hand basket as
long as Little Sammy gets his playtime? Great!"
"That remark was totally uncalled for."
"Sam, what happens if there is an international crisis or a
Presidential press conference or, God forbid, Donna gets dumped by
another gomer? How is the White House going to contact us?"
"I assume Toby would phone the hotel where we will be staying."
"That assumes we ever get to the hotel. Do you have any maps? That
was a redundant question."
"They are in the glove compartment. I'm going to feed Larry while
you do the Pathfinder bit."
"Hey, I'm hungry too. How about throwing me a sandwich and a bottled
water?"
"You can forage for your own lunch, Kemosabe."
"Right. Sam, there are like twelve maps in here. At least give me a
clue to what state I'm in."
"Confusion?"
"Okay, Tonto, who put the burr under your saddle?"
"Look around you, Josh. Who have I been talking to for the last
fifteen minutes? It certainly isn't Larry. He's got a limited
vocabulary, not to mention a bottle stuck in his mouth."
"Yeah."
"When you are finally done ranting and complaining and are ready to
discuss this like a civilized, intelligent human being, I will give
you a sandwich and maybe a piece of fruit."
"You mean I don't get a cookie?"
"Not unless you apologize."
"Well, is that like an ordinary 'I'm sorry' apology or are you
expecting something more?"
"You can start with a simple 'I'm sorry'. We can move onto the
something more part when the baby takes his nap."
"Maybe I'll save dessert for later then."
"Whatever. You know this is really an idyllic spot. There's the
wind rustling through the trees and birds chirping and a stream
rushing down below those blackberry bushes. There's not even a lot
of traffic."
"It also has huge pointy rocks, poison sumac, mosquitoes and diesel
trucks going by every five minutes."
"You just had to dispel the moment."
"You know me; I'm a reality kinda guy."
"Yeah. So, who taught you all those children's songs?"
"Joanie. She would sing all the time and tell me the most wonderful
stories. She had the sweetest voice, soft, clear and vibrant. You
know she wanted to be an opera singer."
"You miss her a lot."
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry."
"About what?"
"For asking. I didn't realize it still hurt to talk about her."
"No, no, Sam. I don't mind talking about Joanie. As long as someone
is remembered, they never really die."
"Sometimes I remember the woman who used to care for me as a kid."
"Wait a minute. Did you have like a full-time nanny?"
"Not exactly. She was our housekeeper, but I called her Nana Rosa.
Dad hired her shortly after I was born because Mom...Mom couldn't
or wouldn't take care of me."
"Sam, if you don't want to...."
"It's okay. She suffered from postpartum depression."
"When did you find out?"
"Dad told me that night I called him back, after the Gault thing, the
night we all got drunk. Her pregnancy had been pretty difficult. I
guess she never really recovered. She told Dad she didn't want to
have any more children."
"So he brought in a substitute?"
"Josh! Nana Rosa was sixty years old and had grandchildren of her
own."
"I mean to take care of you, not him."
"Right. Yeah, I was raised by this wise, loving Mexican woman who
regaled me with all these stories in Spanish, most of which I didn't
understand."
"What happened to her?"
"She went back to her family in Mexico when I started boarding
school. I tried to keep in touch. I even learned Spanish so I could
write to her. She never wrote back. Dad said she died a few years
ago. All her grandchildren had grown up and she had no one left to
care for."
"But you still remember her?"
"More so lately. I keep thinking it would be nice for Larry to have
someone like that to sing him to sleep and quiet his fears and tell
him crazy stories."
"Hey, that's what you have me for."
"Yeah, I know."
"Sam, look he's asleep. Let's say we start this vacation right here
and now."
"I thought we already had."
"Then I guess it's time for an apology and dessert."
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