Wet Beehive and Sofa

We’re perfect angels, my sister and I

The trip to our Grandparent’s farm in Esko, Minnesota started as usual; my sister and I taking turns at annoying each other in the back seat of the Buick.  It was an enormous car that 1971 Buick LeSabre.  It sat 6 adults comfortably and only had AM radio, no AC…sweet.  We listened to the Twins game as WCCO was the only radio station it was tuned too.  Following the Twins was Mystery Theatre with EG Marshall.  We usually arrived before the end of the story.   There were no seatbelts or car seats in those days.  Just the spacious back seat with a pile of blankets that separated my sister and I.  Vying for more space always created a ruckus.  Ma and Pop took turns fielding these skirmishes.  Usually with, “I’ll stop the car and make you walk if you don’t settle down”.  

Looking out the window on all our trips I never witnessed lone children walking along the freeway system.  A hollow threat we knew.  But as non-teenagers, we knew just how far to push the adults.  And when to back off.  This ability is lost on the addled teenage mind.  Making matters worse, it was raining quite hard.

As I said, the goal was to take more space in the backseat to stretch out.  This trip I tried reverse psychology on my sister.  I grabbed the pile of blankets sliding them to myself and said to her, “see how much of the blankets I have?  Sure is nice and cozy here in this little space.”  Darned if she didn’t take the bait.  She was too smart for that psychology nonesense.  She actually rejoiced in her expanded domain by stretching out across her spacious seating arrangement.  Which of course was the start of yet another fight as I tried to reclaim my lost space.  Ma whipped around to tell us again for the umpteenth time to knock it off.  That’s when she noticed the trailer behind our car was empty.

Before I continue, let me add a bit of background to this trip.  One of our adult cousins was getting married the following day.  Ma went to the beauty parlor to have her bouffant hairdo set earlier.  I never understood how her bouffant doo would survive the night’s sleep.  But all the Aunties practiced this.  As usual for these family functions, the Aunties would gather early at Grandma’s house.  She had one of those pink floor standing hairdryers where they each would take a turn “drying” their beehive hairdoos.  Or, was that warm swirling air to remove the bees?  A child often wondered.

In the trailer, we had this hideous god-awful family hand-me-down brown and orange sofa that we were to deliver to another adult cousin up north.  He had just purchased a one room house and needed a place to sit.  Even if that meant inheriting a sofa that defied all logic in style and decor.  It was some silly Colonial pattern high back with Queen Ann backrest sides.   Supposedly, my older cousin was pleased to get a damp but rain driven clean ugly sofa.  Maybe my folks paid him to take it?   They loaded the hideous sofa into the trailer, no tie downs, no tarp nor covering.  The sofa just sat there in the trailer bouncing as we drove northward on Interstate 35 at 70 miles per hour.

Anyway, somehow, this sofa lying in the ditch between the north and south bound lanes of 35 was my sister’s and my fault.  They told us we were to watch the trailer.  Oh, yeah, I vaguely remembered that.  Yeah, right, watch a trailer for two hours.  We had more important things to do, fight for more than our fair share of backseat space.

Backtracking south of Hinkley, they found that blasted sofa around Pine City.  It layed in a wet soggy heap in the center median between the north and southbound lanes.  Pop bought a clothesline at Tobies to finally and correctly secure the load.  We felt kind of bad that both Ma and Pop were soaking wet; Ma looking like a drowned racoon with her deflated bouffant hairdo.  So weird that they always yell at my sister and I to wear our raincoats and rubber boots when it was raining.  Yet there they were, messing with a soaking wet sofa in a trailer in a driving rainstorm without a raincoat on.  

Ma glared at us and told us we were to be quiet and watch that trailer and sofa for the rest of the trip.  We knew the car adults had had enough and an unspoken truce broke out between us.  The glare of the red taillights on the wet back window reflecting on the trailer was enough to make us sleepy.  My sister lasted 12 seconds before she fell asleep.  I was asleep shortly after.

As we pulled around the teardrop driveway in front of my Grandparents house, my sister’s back door opened.  I watched in utter surprise as she bailed out of the car before it even came to a stop.  I could see the lawn and gravel pass by through her still open door as she ran for the house.  Not to be outdone, I too bailed from the car to seek refuge inside the house.  

My sister was already hugging Grandma crying a stream of tears. Nice touch.   Grandpa asked me how the trip went.  I stopped in mid sentence when our folks walked in.  Both of them were still wet, Ma’s big bouffant hung down in clumps of wet matted hair.  I lit for the living room, my sister hid behind Grandma.  Ma and Pop retold the story of our trip while my sister sat on Grandma’s lap in her kitchen rocking chair.

I heard Grandpa chuckle as he brought down a bottle of bourbon for my Pop.  To this day, I wondered how his car trips went with one boy and six girls.  Those musta’ been some epic fights!  The Poor man.

The others arrived and the Aunties tended to Ma’s bouffant hairdo in the bathroom using the pink standup hair dryer.  If only they had worn raincoats…

We learn from our parents.  To this day if the load I am securing requires two ropes, four additional ropes are used.  I am proud to say that I have never lost a load on the roadway.  Though, it may take 45 minutes to untie said load.