Having enjoyed their impromptu feast they hopped into their carrier, ready to hit the road. Did I say impromptu? I daresay the entire episode was plotted by those two incorrigible connivers!
To avoid tiring my passengers, who are confined to 360 square inches of cushioned luxury, I plan to limit each day's driving. At rest stops I release them from the carrier, giving them freedom to hop about the car interior, have a drink of water, and use their commode, which is placed on the floor of the backseat. At least, that's the general idea; they usually ignore their commode until we arrive at a motel. Tonight we'll stop at the Country Life Inn, which not only welcomes pets but supplies a friendly cat to any guest who wants feline company overnight. Extra charge for this, of course.
TUESDAY EVENING . . . Here we are in room 17 of the Country Life Inn. I paid for a room with two beds, and the cats immediately went to sleep on the one I intended for myself. Meanwhile, I went out and had a decent steak at a so-called family restaurant where the waitresses wear granny dresses. More families are dining out these days. I was surrounded by broods of four or six children who screamed, spilled drinks, raced up and down the aisles, threw food, and otherwise made themselves at home. A spoonful of mashed potato and gravy narrowly missed my left ear, and I determined then and there to boycott wholesome family restaurants and patronize murky dives where the waitresses wear mini-skirts and fishnet tights, where sleazy characters hang around the bar, and where all the potatoes are french fried.
WEDNESDAY ... I gassed up and pulled away from the inn after a breakfast of buckwheat pancakes, eggs, and country sausages. (We have better sausages in Moose County.) Last night after I turned out the lights, the cats started roaming. I could hear their claws scurrying around the bathtub, and I assumed they were wrestling and having a good time. Later I discovered there was more to that caper than met the ear . . . Anyway, I fell asleep and didn't hear another sound until the car doors started slamming at 7 A.M., at which time I opened one eye and looked over at the other bed. It was empty. Both cats and one dead mouse were in bed with me! Tonight we're going to have separate rooms.
We are now approaching urban areas and driving on freeways, and the furry folks in the backseat seem to be lulled by the steady rate of speed and drone of traffic. Or they may be drugged by the diesel fumes and broken-down oil burners on the highway.
For lunch I stopped at a fast-food restaurant and parked at the rear near the dumpsters, thinking the garbage aromas would entertain the Siamese during my absence. After releasing them from the carrier, I took care to leave the windows ajar for ventilation and lock all four doors before going in for a quick burger and fries. When I left the restaurant fifteen minutes later I could hear a horn blowingthe continuous, annoying wail of an automobile horn that's stucka short in the wiring or whatever. Imagine my embarrassment when I realized it was my own car! That roguish Koko was behind the wheel, standing on his hind legs, with his paws planted firmly on the horn button. As soon as he saw me, the rascal jumped into the backseat. I said, "That's a clever trick, young man, but we could all be arrested for disturbing the peace."
It was only when I fastened my seat belt and turned the ignition key that I noticed an unauthorized object on the floor. It was below the window on the passenger side. Until I reached for it I couldn't identify the thing. It was a piece of bent wire from a coat hanger. Car thievesor worse, cat thieveshad tried to break in! I apologized to Koko . . . Was it a coincidence? Or is he now functioning as a burglar alarm? I can never be sure about that cat!
WEDNESDAY EVENING ... We checked into our motel at four-thirty. This time I paid for two rooms, both singles. The three of us are spending the evening together in room 37, the cats huddled on the bed watching TV without the audio, while I start a Thomas Mann novel I haven't read since college. At bedtime I'll turn out the lights and slip into room 38.
THURSDAY . . . Now we've left the freeways behind. The scenery is more picturesque, but the forested hills are spoiled by billboards advertising discount stores and warehouse outlets. I went into one such store in a town called Pauper's Cove and bought a pair of slippers, having left mine in Pickax. They had two thousand pairs but only one in size twelve. The slippers weren't the color I wanted, but they were a rare bargain. Then I stopped for lunch at a local eatery and had some very good vegetable soup and cornbread. While I was eating, a guy rushed in and shouted something, and the entire place emptied customers, cashier, cook, everyone! I followed, thinking it was an earthquake or a forest fire. But no! They were all standing around my car, peering in at the Siamese, who were leaping gracefully about the interior and striking magnificent poses. Whenever they know they have an audience, those two are shameless exhibitionists.
Before starting to drive again, I went into another discount store, just to browse. They had a good price on driving gloves, so I picked up a pair to use in Moose County next winterthat is, if I'm still in Moose County next winter. Time will tell. I may be in Alaska. Or the Canary Islands.
THURSDAY EVENING . . . Tonight I paid for two rooms at the Mountain Charm Motel, which would be improved by better plumbing and mattresses and fewer ruffles and knickknacks. When I put on my new slippers, I found out that the one I had tried on in the store was size twelve, all right, but the other was size eleven. That led me to inspect the driving gloves. They were both for the right hand! There's one thing I like about Moose County: Everyone's honest . . . Tomorrow we arrive in Potatoland.
FRIDAY . . . Last leg of our journey. Koko and Yum Yum have just had their first experience with a tunnel through a mountain. They raised holy hell until we emerged into the sunlight . . . They're getting excited. They know we're almost there.
Directional signs are beginning to assure me that Spuds-boro really exists. The purplish ridges in the distance are turning into rounded mountains of misty blue, and the highway is heading toward a gap between them. Now and then it runs close to the Yellyhoo River . . . Just caught a strong whiff of pine scent from a truckload of logs coming out of the mountains . . . It's been raining here; there's a rainbow . . . We're passing a well-kept golf course, a new hospital, three fast-food palaces, a large mall. Judging by the number of car dealers, Spudsboro is booming! . . . Here we are at the city limitstime to stop talking and concentrate on my driving.
Upon arriving in the small but thriving metropolis of Spudsboro, Qwilleran found it to be a strip-city, a few blocks wide and a few miles long, wedged between two mountain ranges. Three or four winding but roughly parallel streets and a railroad track were built on a series of elevationslike shelvesfollowing the course of the river. On one shelf a locomotive and some hopper-bottom cars were threatening to topple over on the buildings below. Qwilleran imagined the whole town might wash away downstream if hit by a hard rain.
At the residential end of Center Street a conglomeration of Victorian cottages, contemporary split-levels, and middle-aged bungalows coexisted peaceablywith the usual hanging flower baskets on porches, tricycles on lawns, and basketball hoops on garage fronts. Next came the commercial strip: stores, bars, gas stations, small office buildings, barbers, two banks, and one traffic light.
Naturally Qwilleran's eye was quick to spot the newspaper office, the animal clinic, and the public library. In the center of town a miniature park was surrounded by the city hall, fire hall, police department, county courthouse, and post office. Pickets were parading in front of the courthouse, which had a golden dome too grandiose for a building of its modest size, and a police officer was issuing a parking ticket. Altogether it was a familiar smalltown scene to Qwilleran, except for the mountains looming on each side of the valley.