The three of us, my mother, my sister and myself, had meticulously crafted our plans to drive to Chicago, with my young son in tow, for a “ladies only” vacation, or so we thought. Little did we know we were about the embark on a trip that still makes us wince years later, and is great fodder for family jokes.
That’s when my loving brother-in-law, ever the engineer, figured out a way for us to get there faster. “Take the Pig Trail!” he said. I could feel the rumblings of trouble on the horizon already.
Highway 23, the Pig Trail, to the ill-advised, is 24 miles of mostly dirt road that starts out innocently enough, but soon turns into a morass of mud when it rains, along with hairpin turns and one-lane bridges that will set your teeth to grinding and keep your stomach churning. If you make it through without being rattled to death, the Pig Trail will then contemptuously spit you out on the other side to meet I-40.
The rain began, naturally, as soon as we departed. My sister reached the turn onto the trail, and after negotiating exactly two slippery curves, she revived her senses and decided to turn around. In the middle of the road. We slid into a ditch head first, but unhurt. She managed to back out of it by slamming the car into reverse and spinning the tires violently, all the while cursing under her breath. The car rattled a bit, but we didn’t care, we had made it out. Looking back, we should have stayed in the ditch.
Continuing on our way, we were cruising merrily down Highway 5 in Missouri , when the car, which had been rattling all the way, simply quit. No problem!, my mom had trip insurance. Only she had forgotten to renew her premium. No problem!, she had the number for the car rental service that’s supposed to “pick you up.” We were “too far from the service area”, they informed us. Luckily, I saw a Missouri State Trooper rolling our way, so I rolled my window down and waved. What a hero! After he tried to get the car going, and couldn’t, he said he would drive us back to a motel, the “best one around.” I’m sure he was snickering under his breath. He ditched us and took off, a little too quick, I thought.
The hotel was filthy, and horrifyingly reminiscent of a crackhouse. But, at least it was a place to flop until we could get the car going, which we had towed to the motel parking lot, at an outrageous price. The managers, recent immigrants, proceeded to grill us so they could find out our entire life’s stories, which is their custom, I guess. Then, when we got signed in and I paid for the night, the real fun began. I asked for a cot for my son, and they said it would be five dollars. Sheets, towels, pillows, blankets, ironing board, television? Yep, five dollars each.
We made it though the night, somehow, lying gingerly on gritty mattresses and between dingy sheets, which gave new meaning to the phrase “Prom Nite Special.” The next morning, my brother-in-law showed up to fix the car. As we were packing the car, and brother-in-law was poking under the hood, the managers came screaming over to us, saying we had stolen their ice bucket. I loudly denied it , not knowing that my mom had actually, in fact, stolen the cheap plastic bucket out of revenge, and hidden it in her suitcase. So I dug through the suitcases, and to my chagrin, It was in there, right in front of me. I then threw it across the parking lot, and the managers scuttled for it like it was made of solid gold. They were screaming that we were thieves, and they were going to “call the police.” Brother-in-law banged his head on the hood.
He managed to get the car going, and on the way back, I drove with my brother-in-law, while the others followed. You guessed it, the car broke down again. It took two hours for the tow driver to show up. And I really had to go to the bathroom. Of course, there were no bathrooms in sight, so he took me to a farm. I knocked on the door and politely asked to use their bathroom. The farmer handed me some toilet paper, and directed me instead to a horrifically smelly outhouse, replete with wide cracks and lots of spiders. When we finally arrived home, I was sick with a massive migraine for two days.