Andinia´s staff

Adventure Travel (III).

By Doug Sassaman
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"As I drive, my wife Denise attends to the baby. She's run though all her toys, so an empty plastic Coke bottle is next. Emma snatches it and begins the interrogation process where she examines and orally samples it from every angle as if it were an alien communicator made of a lollipop material.

Fifteen minutes later, she's either figured out everything she needs to know about the communicator, or realized it's just a stupid Coke bottle, in either case, it ends up on the floor. A plastic grocery bag is next at bat, a watchful eye to make sure she doesn't fit it over her head. That holds her for ten, and then we start rummaging around the floor at our feet for the next enticing bit of garbage-cum-toy. A road map must resemble a T-bone to her, because she greedily stuffs it into her mouth, my wife quickly retrieves it and now a dribbly tooth mark is our destination.

Cup holders, floor mats, eyeglass cases, wallets, 'Hey that's mine!' banana peels, and books each go back in succession and are increasingly cast aside with more vehemence. Until finally the front of the car is cleaner then it's ever been and the back seat looks like hurricane Emma spared no mercy. Denise finds a clump of lint and hair and considers throwing it back into the maelstrom, but we know the end is close. No more widgets, snidgets, or gidgets. Oh, what I would give for an ice scraper, comb, or waterproof road atlas, name your price. Slowly, like a small nuclear leak run amok, meltdown occurs."

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