I'm becoming Archie Bunker. My wife Edith was sound asleep as we drove north toward the Dells. The rain was coming down so hard that the wipers couldn't keep up, the family truckster sped ahead and the gas gauge moved just as quickly under my watchful eye as it likely does without my Bunker stare. The last tank of gas just purchased in Rockford Il seemed to flow like water, and I began thinking that each mile driven was like throwing change out the window. Kinda like those toll booths you see going through Chicago. Do they make an I-pass for gas guzzlers yet...? They could send out the road crews from Saudia Arabia to pick up all the loose change littering the highway. That'll teach em for [censored]in with the American people, if they want it bad enough they can come and get it.
When did the gas gauge watching become such a terrible sport? I mean, no matter how many times I hit the reset on the mpg computer, the damn thing would eventually average around 20 every time. At first it was fun to see it around 27 (a temporary feeling of elation) and then it would go to 14 and then back up again like it knew not to mess with Archie. Between winks, Edith wonders why I kept hitting that reset button. All I could say was, "the oil rich rat bastards are collecting 25 cents from us every mile going 70 mph all the time. It would sure be nice to slow down the flow of money with this thing." Short of stopping our vacation travel on I-90 and pitching a tent, I decided to keep going. The Dells being our final destination.
We arrived in a torrential downpour. The road to the hotel is closed due to flooding, and the guests that stayed over the weekend had to worry about a tornado and spent 6 hours in the basement. The weekend Corvette show at Chula Vista was all but cancelled and we were just checking in! The cost of arrival seemed wasted so we unloaded the car in the rain wondering what the week would hold. More rain and this...
Homes Washed Into Lake Delton
Even Archie couldn't find the words to express what happened. This will be a vacation the Bunkers will remember for a long time (or at least until Meathead gets a job). Hey there's always the ride home to look forward to. I'd better take a pocket full of quarters to pitch. Seems insignificant to those poor people who lost their homes.