When I Hit the Road

by Nancy J. Cavanaugh

  “Well, I’m real sorry, ma’am,” the mechanic said.

  “That’s not a problem,” Mimi said. “An honest mistake.”

  “No, ma’am,” the mechanic said, “What I mean is I’m sorry to tell you that because I thought the clothes were rummage, I asked Duncan if my wife could come by and take them over to the big resale event they’re having up north of here. My wife sets up the sale every year to raise money for the schools around here.”

  “WHAT?!” Gram and I said at the same time.

  “Oh, my!” is what Mimi said.

  “I thought your clothes were in your suitcases,” Duncan said, sounding sorry.

  Brandon looked at Duncan and said, “Do you think Sam and I would be dressed like this if we had our own clothes with us?”

  So, while we wait for Gram’s car, we’re sitting out front of Second Hand, Second Look, a consignment shop down the street from Tow Tow Tow Your Car. It’s the only store in this town that sells clothes. It’s the middle of the day. The store’s supposed to be open, but there’s a sign on the window that says, “Back in a few minutes.” But we’ve already been here at least forty-five.

  You might be wondering why Duncan didn’t just drive us somewhere else to buy some new clothes, which is what I thought he should’ve done. The problem was that he’s taking paramedic training classes in night school and his teacher is really strict, and if he didn’t leave right away, he would’ve been late for class.

  I actually didn’t really blame him for leaving us. I mean, I probably would’ve left us too, even if I didn’t have somewhere else to go, because who would want to bring two middle schoolers looking like Brandon and me shopping for clothes?

  I sure wouldn’t.

  Love,

  Me

  P.S. One of the things I thought about while we waited for the store to open was whether someone as cute as Duncan should even be allowed to be a paramedic. Someone that cute could easily give a perfectly healthy girl a heart attack.

  Dear Me,

  I’m thinking there might actually be a little good luck in wearing leprechauns after all, because not only are we back in Gram’s Mustang headed down another rural road trying to catch up with our itinerary, but Brandon and I are sitting in the back seat with the coolest matching shirts ever!

  When we finally got inside the Second Hand, Second Look store, and came face-to-face with the merchandise, I was worried that I’d be spending the rest of the road trip in my leprechaun pj’s, because when I looked around, I didn’t see anything that looked like it would be an improvement on my current donation-bin outfit.

  At home, Tori, Annalise, and I go to the thrift store every once in a while, and we always find pretty cool stuff. But Second Hand, Second Look should’ve really been called Clothes from Another Century for Senior Citizens. The sections were labeled “Active Wear for the Mature Adult,” “Casual Wear for the Mature Adult,” and “Formal Wear for the Mature Adult.”

  I think you get the idea.

  Of course, Gram and Mimi were in heaven, especially Mimi, who pointed out that now she could see the “blessing” of losing all our clothes to those in need.

  But Brandon and I kept looking at each other and raising our eyebrows, and I knew he was wondering the same thing I was: How in the world were we going to find clothes that were any better than what we were wearing?

  But then, the magic happened!

  Brandon was sliding shirts along a rack of clothes way at the back of the store, and he turned to me and said, “Sam, look at these!”

  I looked over to see him holding up two light blue shirts with white buttons and white piping down the front. Embroidered on the front pocket of one shirt was “Sam” and the other said, “Big B.” They looked like bowling team shirts.

  “We are TOTALLY getting these!” Brandon said handing me the “Sam” shirt as he took the “Big B” shirt off the hanger and tried it on over his daisy shirt.

  He buttoned it up as he walked over to the mirror on the side wall.

  “C’mon, Sam,” he said. “Try yours on!”

  So, I did.

  And we both stood next to each other looking in the mirror.

  And I have to tell you:

  We

  Looked

  AWESOME!

  “Team Road Trip!” Brandon hooted and pumped his fist in the air.

  And just like the chocolate chips in my cookies had melted Gram’s insides, helping her forgive Mimi for, well, for a lot of things, having Brandon get so excited about our matching shirts, well, I don’t know, it made it easier to stop being so… Oh, I don’t know…disgruntled about Brandon’s extraordinary coolness and his overabundance of talent. And it also made me forget about my agitation over the fact that he had gotten so much credit for being the one to find the food and the phone back at Glory Bound Baptist.

  And, besides finding the matching shirts, there’s one more thing which could just prove that the Irish might be on to something with those magical little leprechauns. When the tow truck/mechanic gave away all our clothes, he also gave away the bulging bag full of rummage clothes from the back seat. And I wouldn’t go around broadcasting this or posting it online, but just between you and me, I’m not going to complain that there’s no more plastic garbage bag separating Brandon and me in the back seat.

  Love,

  Me

  Dear Me,

  Even though I was still wearing the pajama bottoms from the Glory Bound Baptist donation bin, I was feeling pretty AWESOME in my Team Road Trip shirt. The plan was at some point to find a real store so that Brandon and I could buy some more new clothes. But, now that Brandon and I looked like we were on the same team—and it was a team I didn’t mind being on—getting a new pair of shorts didn’t seem as important. And I was certainly in no hurry to put on a new shirt.

  (With the wide variety of clothing available for the mature adult at Second Hand, Second Look, Gram and Mimi had found more than enough clothes for themselves to last until the end of the trip.)

  Anyway, all of us were in a good mood when we arrived at Harmony Baptist, the first church on Mimi’s list. Mimi’s inability to stop herself from going on and on meant that in the first five minutes, the church secretary knew all about our travel woes going all the way back to the skid mark at Sunny Sandy Shores.

  As a result, the Harmony Baptist secretary, whose name was Melody (can you even believe that?), offered to deliver the rest of Mimi’s Bibles to the other churches we planned to visit to give us extra time so that we’d be sure to make it to Gram’s last qualifying karaoke contest.

  Mimi was so grateful she just about strangled Melody in a spindly-marionette-armed hug, and that led to Melody insisting that we all sit down in the church kitchen while she heated up some leftovers from the church’s spaghetti supper, which had taken place the night before. Not only did we devour huge helpings of spaghetti and meatballs, but we ate garlic bread, salad, and plenty of pie. And while we feasted, Melody printed out a fresh copy of Harold’s directions, which Mimi had saved in an email.

  Mimi of course said that the fact that she had saved the directions in an email proved that miracles really do happen. But as Melody stapled the stack of papers and then handed them to Mimi, I looked at Gram and decided that miracles must sometimes be a matter of opinion.

  By the time we said our goodbyes, all of us had enveloped Melody in a ginormous group hug.

  When we got back in the car, even though Mimi was the only one to say something about “counting our blessings,” I could tell all four of us felt pretty thankful.

  Mimi’s Bibles were on their way to all the Vacation Bible School kids she’d been praying for.

  Gram still had one more chance to sing and possibly qualify for the Borlandsville Fun in the Sun County Fair Seniors Got Talent karaoke contest.

  And our stomachs
couldn’t have been more satisfied if we had eaten at the fanciest Italian restaurant in town.

  On top of that, I was still feeling pretty elated about the Team Road Trip shirts Brandon and I had scored.

  But, about an hour from Harmony Baptist, the leprechaun luckiness disappeared into thin air, and the blessings that had been showered down upon us (which we were so happy to be counting) turned into what Mimi liked to call “trials” of our faith.

  It started with a few sprinkles on the windshield, but in literally a nanosecond, the sky darkened to the color of a bruise, and the rain sprinkles turned into a torrential downpour.

  Gram couldn’t see the road, especially with the dark lenses of her prescription driving sunglasses, which she flung off her face just after a huge clap of thunder shook the car like a sonic boom. The windshield wipers whipped back and forth at super speed, but it still looked like dumpsters full of water were being poured on the windshield. So, Gram pulled off to the side of the road.

  The hammering rain against the convertible’s top sounded like a million reindeer hooves running over our heads. I was afraid the roof might cave in on us.

  Of course, none of our cell phones were working, so Gram fiddled with the car radio searching for a station.

  Breaking through the static came a storm warning from the National Weather Service. Apparently, squalls were coming in from the Atlantic Ocean, and a Flash Flood Warning had been issued.

  “Oh, heavenly day!” Mimi said.

  The monotone voice coming over the radio recommended that listeners take cover.

  I had never really been in a Flash Flood Warning before, but I was pretty sure that a convertible Mustang on the side of a rural road in the middle of low-lying swamp land did not constitute “cover.”

  “I’ve never in all my life!” Gram said sounding exasperated. “What are we going to do?!”

  I thought back to the day camp training motto: “Expect the best, but prepare for the worst.”

  I’d like to know how in the world we could’ve ever prepared for this!

  (Maybe flotation devices underneath the seats in Gram’s Mustang would’ve been a good idea.)

  Brandon held his phone up against the window and squinted at it.

  Was that phone really his ONLY idea for every problem?

  (Although at this point, I have to admit, I didn’t really have any ideas of my own.)

  “I don’t know why we had to listen to Harold and take these confounded back roads anyway!” Gram said.

  “Don’t blame this on Harold!” Mimi said. “How was he to know there’d be a storm like this? And please watch your language around these youngsters, Madge.”

  “My language is the least of our worries! We’re in the middle of nowhere!” Gram said. “We haven’t seen another car, a gas station, or a billboard for miles. This is not a safe way to travel, especially with these two kids!”

  Gram mentioning a billboard, reminded me of something I’d seen a couple miles before the rain began, so I told Gram, Mimi, and Brandon that I was pretty sure I’d seen a sign for a campground up ahead.

  “Campground?!” Brandon exclaimed. “What good is a campground gonna do?!”

  This made me want to knock Big B’s block off even though we were on the same team.

  His best idea was holding his useless cell phone up in the air, and he had the audacity to criticize one of my ideas? At least I was trying to think of a way to get us off this road.

  And I know it might sound dramatic, but if you were there… Okay, yes, technically you were there… But in all honesty, my idea might possibly and could quite literally save our lives.

  With as much sarcasm as I usually reserved for conversations with Mom or my sisters, I told Brandon that, for his information, some campgrounds have cabins. Anything was better than sitting on the side of the road in Gram’s Mustang waiting for the water to start rising so we could all get washed away in a flash flood and eaten by gigantic turtles and swamp alligators.

  So, as soon as the rain let up a little, Gram put on her hazard blinkers and eased us back out onto the road. We inched down the already slightly flooded blacktop at about three miles per hour with the windshield wipers slapping back and forth as fast as they would go while the bruised sky just kept getting darker and darker even though it still should’ve been daylight.

  We all sat forward helping Gram stay on the road, hoping and watching for another campground sign. When we finally saw the crooked acorn-shaped piece of wood attached to a post that said “Camp Wonderful,” we all cheered. But when Gram turned and drove into the circle cul-de-sac that was in the center of the campground, even with our lack of visibility because of the driving rain, we got a good enough look at Camp Wonderful to deflate our optimistic cheer into a pessimistic groan.

  Camp Wonderful?

  It was hard to imagine this camp had ever lived up to its name.

  There were cabins, but they looked like they’d been abandoned for years.

  Camp Wonderful looked like a ghost town from an old black-and-white photograph.

  “Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” Mimi said trying to sound cheerful. “We’ve got to just believe this is an answer to prayer.”

  I had a hard time believing this place was an answer to anything.

  But what choice did we have?

  Gram drove us as close as she could through the potholes and puddles to the cabin that looked the least ramshackle. And the four of us splish-sploshed barefoot down the muddy camp path toward the cabin door, carrying our shoes and socks so they’d stay somewhat dry.

  Any relief we might have felt as we took shelter was swept away when Brandon pulled open the cabin door, and a tidal wave of water washed over our feet up to our ankles.

  All that was a few hours ago, and now everyone’s asleep but me. You might be thinking, oh, then I bet the cabin wasn’t that bad inside.

  If only that were true.

  The reason we had been met with a tidal wave of water when we opened the door was because there was at least a foot of floodwater on the cabin floor. Thankfully the water wasn’t coming from the roof, which by some miracle looked to be keeping out the still pounding rain. Because of this, the roof was hailed as another one of Mimi’s answered prayers.

  I was fine with Mimi’s spiritual interpretation of things, because, in just the short time that I had known her, I knew she prayed about everything, but if Camp Wonderful was an answer to prayer and the roof over our head was one too, I wasn’t sure what we should call the water that was rising from a crack in the cement floor.

  In my mind, I was calling it “the worst,” which, according to the day camp motto, we should have prepared for; but again, I wasn’t sure how anyone could ever prepare for the evolving adversity the four of us were experiencing.

  There was a bunk bed against each of the four walls that made up the cabin, so there was a top bunk for each of us, which would hopefully keep us a safe distance from the rising water. But getting up on that top bunk wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

  Gram couldn’t get herself up the wooden ladder, so Brandon and I had to push her.

  From BEHIND.

  Talk about embarrassing!

  It would’ve been bad enough if I would’ve had to heave-ho my own grandma up a ladder by myself, but I had to do it with Big B.

  Of course, he could only push with one hand, but thankfully he could, because I don’t think I could’ve gotten Gram up there by myself. Once we got her over the top of the last rung, she landed with a thud on the plywood plank where there would’ve been a mattress if we were real campers and this camp really was wonderful.

  Mimi took the bunk across from Gram, and because of her spindly arms and legs, she was able to climb that ladder like Spider-Woman.

  Brandon and I took the other two bunks.

  Shortly after we all
settled on our “beds,” the rushing waterfall of rain turned to a steady rain forest, rainy-season rain. And as the dark, stormy skies outside gradually turned to dusk and we all lay staring at the cabin’s ceiling listening to the rain, I knew everyone was probably thinking what I was thinking.

  No one said it out loud, because it was too heartbreaking to think about, but because of the storm and our complimentary stay at Camp Wonderful, Gram would miss her last karaoke contest, and there wasn’t one thing any of us could do about it.

  I closed my eyes hoping I’d fall asleep, but all I could picture was Gram back at her condo holding that photo of Grandpa and telling him about how she was finally going to sing karaoke like they’d always dreamed of doing. Thinking about it made my stomach hurt and made me wish I hadn’t had seconds and thirds of the church-supper spaghetti.

  Soon, Gram, Mimi, and Brandon’s steady breathing told me they had all fallen asleep, but for me, sleep was as far away as the sunshine we’d soaked in as we had left Harmony Baptist Church just before the storm hit.

  So, as long as I was awake, I got out my phone and used it as a light so I could write you this letter.

  The only good thing about not having cell service is that my phone battery’s lasting a really long time. And, even though I’m not the prayer Mimi is, something that I’m thinking of as answer to prayer is that I remembered to grab my drawstring backpack when we ran from the car. That’s why I have my Dear Me Journal with me right now, which means you’re keeping me company.

  I’m grateful that, while Gram and Mimi’s sounds of sleep turn into their nightly symphony of snoring, and Brandon slumbers in the Land of Adorable, I have the chance to catch you up on what is only day two of our travels.

  Since we left Sunny Sandy Shores, it has felt more like a TV reality show/drama/slapstick comedy than a road trip.

  Tonight, there’s no Glory Bound Baptist sanctuary to escape to so that I can get some sleep.

  So, it could be a long night.