Do you remember the scene in National Lampoons  when the family is stuck in traffic on a mountain pass? That’s where we are right now. Everyone has shut off their car and is beginning to mill around discussing the hold up and asking RV’s if they can use their bathrooms. As  luck would have it, the mountains are also blocking any signals to our phones and internet. Little societies are beginning to develop, cliques. The dogs and kids are emerging from cars. I can already see the development of the “Town Crier” who is keeping updated on all of the goings-on down at the accident site, we have a small, clucking group of gossips who spread the word. The up side is the cool, beautiful weather which surrounds us. It wouldn’t be entirely unpleasant to spread out a blanket on the center line and have a nice picnic huddled between mountains on all sides.

Oop--someone  brought out their guitar and a small group of older long-haired men are gathering. Some dude in entirely too much leather on an overly-equipt Harley has begun to pass through the crowds.

The dogs and I just got out of the car and a pack of little blond children emerged from an RV. Like a posse slowly approaching with pleading eyes, 5 little cherubs no more than 9 mo. apart "Do you want to pet the doggies?", their golden heads silently nodded. . . They quietly cooed at the pups and I ask "Are you guys brothers and sisters?" (not that I needed to ask but only to confirm the necessity to travel in a motor home). "Uh-huh", they all answered timidly.

 About this time, far down the highway, I see movement, the turning on of cars, the pressing of brakes. The tall and slender blond mother emerges from the RV, no more than 5 years my senior, "Come on kids, quick . . . the cars are moving its time to go!" Everyone scurried back into their private vehicles, rolled up their windows, turned on their music, avoided eye contact and continued on their way.