I don’t know why people think that Christmas should be all about the North Pole and snow and stuff, because I just found out that it’s actually a day to celebrate some dude’s birthday who was born in a barn in the desert. I think his name was Chris. But just like that Chris’s mom, my Mom didn’t make a reservation at any motels or campgrounds. That’s why she said we had to hurry up and drive all the way to Utah without stopping for adventures or else we may not find anywhere open for us to stay.
For the whole morning we drove under a grey and yucky sky that smelled like big trucks and cow poop. Finally, when we’d been in the Covered Wagon for so long that I was sure that Christmas had come and gone, Mom stopped for lunch and I got out and found that the sky was high up where it belonged, the sun was out, and the air smelled like dry. We kept driving until all the plants were shriveled up into pointy things, the sun started coming down behind us, and then Mom stopped for another potty break.
The place we stopped had rusty old timey farm stuff in front and Mom aimed the Covered Wagon at the big juice boxes that the Covered Wagon drinks its meals from. But when Mom looked closer she veered into a spot away from the juice boxes. “We can get gas like a dollar cheaper just a few miles away in Nevada!” she scoffed. Then she went into the building without me. The building had signs about the fancy homemade candy and gifts inside, so when Mom came out I danced my anxiety dance and licked her face as I squealed, “Is this Santa’s workshop??? Is that thing with wheels over there Santa’s sleigh?” “No,” she said. “That’s a tractor, and this is just one of those crummy gas station gift shops that can’t decide whether it’s a 7-11, an old fashioned candy store, or a tourist trap.” I didn’t know what a tourist trap was, but I’m glad Mom hadn’t gotten stuck in it, leaving me alone in the Covered Wagon forever.
Much to my dismay, Mom joined me in the back of the covered wagon and started making preparations for bed. It looks like we she planned for us to spend the first night of this adventure sleeping in a graveyard in Las Vegas listening to gunshots and watching exploding skyscrapers.
Oscar the desert Pooch
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