For Thanksgiving, we drove the 1973 Dodge van back to its motherland (KY) over three days, for ample time for breakdowns. The trip was thankfully uneventful with only one auto freakout, a few trashy meals and drinks, and entertaining chitchat. I bought an ancient Nutrageous bar from a vending machine that looked like it was born in 1955. I only got it b/c of sentimentality (Husband and I shout “This is a Nutrage!” at each other at home, you know, if a show doesn’t tape, etc.) and made it our trip mascot, which was stupid b/c of course, after five minutes, I wanted to eat it, which I didn’t b/c then I would feel like I was in the Donner Party.
Other things driving reminds me of: Last year, the mail room made me watch a YouTube video of a hitchhiker in the back of the car. The car is about to pass this point in the road (the whole thing takes place in France) where there’s a legend of being haunted by someone who died in a car accident, and at the end of the video, the hitchhiker reveals she is that said ghost, and then the screen goes black with squigglies. DAMN CREEPY.
On Thanksgiving proper, we went to the big family gathering, where every dish had mayo or some kind of meat in it, greatly limiting vegetarian Husband’s options and expanding mine. Later, we bowled at Dixieland Lanes outside of E-town, KY. (E-town = Elizabethtown). Lots of Koreans in E-town, let me tell you.
The scoreboard was electronic, with the design sophistication of a 1984 game of Atari. Nobody listed their real names.
* Pin Pounder
* Tiny Fists of Fury
* John Zombie
* Dr. Pins
Father-in-law actually just wanted to be listed as “John,” but was renamed and outshouted by…me. Husband forgot to add punctuation so his name came out as “drpins” — or “Drippings,” as we liked to call him. And we played.
All three guys did pretty well. Rusty at first, but then strikes kept coming. My game quickly revealed itself as 95% gutter balls and 5% strikes/entering other lanes, despite the ESPN poses Husband taught me and a bright orange bowling ball. Ahh, the glory of being me.