I'm not sure why I just sketched out a western thing, but if anyone wants to be the next Louis L'amour or Bob Johnstone/Will Johnstone, I hope there's something there for you. Or get Riders of the Purple Sage (the book, not the records from the 70's country/rock band - well, they are good anyway - Panama Red!). You can order from Amazon.com. The author of "Riders of the Purple Sage" is Zane Grey.
We climbed slowly on the more mountainous roads but lots of green and horses and old mansions and historical markers that Doug zipped by before I could read anything was it. As I've said before, I have no pills remaining and Primary Progressive MS with a side of bipolar. Guess which wins?
You're right, but let's all watch my decline and fall anyway.
I became even slower than I had been, comprehension low, even though my reading material was light weight for me, I was hanging on to the book and trying to understand what Holmes and Watson were doing in a lower level rock formation at the Reichenbach Falls. But my head would dip, then my hands
would let go of the book, so it would tumble either onto the bus floor, or any empty spot between our
seats, which was so jammed full of bags and what not that anything that came close to the lower area was sucked into the black hole of The Bus (used as extra fuel if there hasn't been a Love's stop). So would try the iPod to listen to stories and it just made the snoozefest even bigger. Then spasm! Sometimes, if I'm really unlucky, i'd spasm my left arm just as Jackie is reaching for her drink. Who will win? Not me. If my head spasms to the right, knock myself into the bus window with a loud thud. If I spasm left, watch out, Jackie! Her iPod, book, any treat she is having will pop over to the seat across from us which I hope is not being used at the time. Sometimes no, sometimes yes.
When the seat was occupied, we apologized to the rider immediately. "Don't worry," he or she would say, "we all do it." By the time we got home, the response was a heavy sigh.
We rode a meandering trail up in to the beginnings of the Shenandoah Mountains, more history there to take in. Our tour guide regaled us with how nice and new accomodations would be, just finished, brand new, majestic views. We were also informed that the hotel did not have a dining area yet, but a bunch of old people are sure to find something at the new Cracker Barrel just across the street.
There was just one problem, small, but there. They had no rooms. Sorry, filled up. As we had run into now and then on the trip, it being the middle of May, and in college towns, they have these called graduations. Families arrive, go see their kids be given a piece of paper that's says the kid is as smart, and after pictures, go out to dinner, and then go to the hotel.
No motel. No food. Spasms in my arms and head. The passengers said the guide was taking wayyyyyy to long, and when she called Doug the bus driver to go into the lobby with her. Trouble is brewing. And my arms were folded in front of my chest to hold back my smoldering anger.