Chapter 5.5: On the Road Again (Con't)

We’re back on the road driving when Bonnie says those dreaded words; “Do you smell something burning?”  “I don’t smell anything.”  “I smell it” she says.  “It’s a burning smell coming from the engine.”  Even though I didn’t smell anything, I took her word for it.  After all, I have seen her burn hamburgers, pancakes, hotdogs, eggs…..  She really does know what burning smells like.

I pull the car over to the apron again, got out and open the hood.  I’m looking around, pushing and moving hoses and wires with my hands, ouch!  I get a sliver in my finger. Great, I thought to myself.  Now I’m in pain, cars are whizzing by, headlights are glaring, and I’m ready to get killed by a car at any moment.  But I did figure out what the burning smell was.  Some of the gas and oil from the missing spark plug cylinder dripped on the engine and started burning.  No big deal, I closed the hood and proceeded to extract the sliver out of my finger using the cars headlight as my light source.  I’m looking down at my finger when all of a sudden I hear the thumping of fists on the windshield.

I look up and all I can see is a brilliant flash of light gleaming in my face.  Then I noticed flashing lights behind my car.  Could this possibly be an alien abduction I thought to myself?  No! No! Anything but the probe!  Why do they call them alien abductions, shouldn’t they be called human abductions? 

*Brief Alien Insight* Did you ever wonder why people who see UFO’s never see the same UFO.  Some people describe them as cigar shaped, triangle shaped, round, square, big, small.  Some make noise, other are silent.  Some have bright lights, other have blinking lights.  Some are slow, some are fast.  You would think people would see the same UFO, but in different locations. I understand that they may have different UFO manufacturers like θ♂Á€θ☼ or שׂמּףּבֿצּאָאָזּדּ, which would be equivalent to Ford and Chevy.  Hummmm, I wonder how I knew the UFO manufacturers?  But even so, they should still have the basic same shape. 

Now if I were flying a UFO I think I would have a tendency to visit more than one place at time.  After all, I’m traveling 100 light years to get to earth, then decide to go to somewhere in the United States.  I always pick down south for some reason, a small town with less than 50 people total.  Beam someone up that was sitting in a pickup truck, extract some DNA in an inappropriate manner, insert an unknown metal tracking device, beam him or her back down without their memory intact, and fly 100 light years back home without even taking a bathroom break.  I DON’T THINK SO.  I’m going to do some sightseeing.  Maybe see the Grand Canyon, New York City and Niagara Falls.  I’m going to be seen by many, many people, and they’re all going to describe me the same way.  Case closed. No Aliens.

 “Is there a problem sir?”  I hear this voice coming from the bright light.  I’m looking through the windshield and all I see are Bonnie and her mother desperately pointing to the State Trooper.  Thanks for the warning I’m thinking to myself.  Again the Trooper says, “Is there a problem sir?”  Well, the first stupid thing I said was, no officer I’m just trying to get a sliver out of my hand.  Now I know what he’s thinking.  Why would anybody pull over to the side of the thruway with cars racing by at 65 MPH to get a sliver out of his hand?  Then I go and say the second stupid thing.  Well I had to pull over because a spark plug fell out of the engine. I know, it didn’t sound right to me either. 

Now he starts looking at me like I’m some sort of wacko. Then he takes his flashlight and points it to the windshield of the car.  I’m looking at the windshield as the light from his flashlight is illuminating the interior of the car.  It looked like a scene from “Cops” were they open the back of the truck, shine their flashlights and all you see are people’s heads in-between boxes and boxes all jammed together. I thought for sure, the cop was going to haul me away to jail, for illegal alien transportation over an interstate highway.

I can’t imagine what was going on in his mind at this point.  Seeing all these tiny heads in-between camping gear shoved into a car, tighter than a sardine can. Then he points his flashlight towards the top of the car.  He can’t believe how much stuff is piled on top of the car.  His flashlight scans higher and higher as he wonders if it exceeds the 12’ limit for bridges.  I thought for sure he was ready to get his tape measure out.  I knew exactly what he was thinking; how in the world did he manage to fit his entire house into and on top of his car.

How long are you going camping for he asked?  Just the weekend I replied. He gave me the “your wife made you do this, didn’t she” look and I gave him the “your dam right” look.  Then he gave me the “I would hate to be you” look and I gave him the “I couldn’t afford a divorce lawyer” look.  One last time he shines his flashlight in my face, tells me to be careful and off he goes.  

I’m back again at the helm of my car for the third time.  “Take us to warp factor 3 Mr. Sulu, destination Camp Paradise.”  “By the way Mr. Sulu, give up the country singing.”