Waylaid in Beaver

Each year I get in the car with a former coworker and we drive over 300 miles to a training. Being that the speed limit is 65-80 mph, this should only be a four hour trip. Unfortunately, with The Skipper Jonas Grumby, aka me, at the helm, a three- or four-hour tour quickly turns into a four-year TV series or, in our case, an eight-hour road trip.

 

Fortunately, my passenger was patient and up for a challenge.

 

We had only been on the road about 30 minutes when we stopped for an espresso and a not so expresso lube and oil. 90 minutes later, and back on the road for approximately 15 minutes, we decided to stop for lunch. A margarita and another 90 minutes later, we were on the road again.

 

We made good progress until we reached a town called Beaver. This definitely required a check-in, coffee, shopping (Beaver Liquor store is a must) and a cruise down Main Street. Might I add, it was a very busy Beaver. It doesn’t surprise me – everybody loves Beaver. Lots of people stopping in, some staying longer than others, and a few buried there.

 

We eventually made our way out of Beaver and, coffee in hand, we were back on the road and ready to arrive at our destination. Others were  anxiously awaiting our arrival, so we made another quick stop for some basic supplies and then, eight hours after initial departure, we arrived at our final destination.

 

Thank goodness I’m not an airline pilot. If I were, my delay would have cost me my former coworker/current passenger’s meal, refreshments, two phone calls,  facsimiles or emails and, had we been delayed  just one  hour more, a flight home.

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