Sweet Baby Sam

Only God knows how many hours I spent in that little Subaru over the past few days. I guess I could add up the numbers if I really wanted to, but to be honest, I have no desire to relive the hours of my body sitting and sitting and sitting. A year ago, I couldn't understand how people complained that getting older made it more difficult to sit for long periods of time. Growing up, my parents took Kaylee and me on all types of trips in all sorts of transportation devices: planes, trains, automobiles... you name it. We never had any problems, except for maybe needing to use the restroom every hour on the hour. As my body has aged though, I begin to understand what they were talking about.

Shut up, Ashlee. Some of you are thinking. You're twenty-four-years-of-age, not ninety-four. Oh golly, I am twenty-four, but my butt could feel the numbness as it tingled it's way over the surface of my quite large derriere. Maybe that's from the rapid weight gain I've noticed since Wildflower? But still. Tingle, tingle, numb. My feet were swollen inside my running shoes, threatening to rip the seems holding them together. I felt like a fat old lady who carries a cushion with her to the bus station. I don't know if fat old ladies actually do this, but it makes sense to me.

Well, Sweet Baby Sam... ohpe! We now interrupt our regular programming for a special back story! Get excited!

My car's name is Sweet Baby Sam. My first car, a red cabriolet VW convertible with a Rabbit engine, was named Gidget. Then there was the Trooper. Oh, I can't remember his name. And the second trooper, the white one. What was his name? Shoot! I can't believe I'm forgetting these! Next was Moondoggie, the Mitsubishi Montero. That car was hard to say goodbye to when I left for school. He was soon replaced by the Jeep Cherokee, whose name is also slipping from the grasps of my tiny memory at the moment. We finish with Sweet Baby Sam though. I was given a choice: Moondoggie or my sister's Subaru. It was rough. I mean, I LOVED Moondoggie. So many good memories in that car: Road trips to Portland, driving through Bend with Holly and Heather, windows down blasting N*SYNC, off-roading with Michael, sharing our deepest fears and hopes. To let that go for this new car? How could I? But the threat of $4 per gallon of gas talked me into it.  

What? Four dollars? That's nothing! Well, it was something then. And in the Midwest, it's still too much money to be spending on a gallon of gasoline.

Now to name the new beauty. Jenna was living with me for the summer; she, Rebecca and I were working at the golf course, selling beer to drunk old geezers on the course. One day, after working a long shift at the pool snack shop, J and I were walking past the park back to my car. "Come here, Sweet Baby Sam," the mother's voice called out to her two-year-old son. And there it was. Sweet Baby Sam. "You should name him Sam," Jenna cried, elated. "No, I should name him Sweet Baby Sam." Nothing rings off the tongue better than a good ol' name like Sweet Baby Sam.

Back to the current story: Sweet Baby Sam has had his share of good and bad days. He's seen the inside of one too many mechanic shops. But, by george, he's a survivor. Past oceans he drove my mother and me. Through desert and mountain tops he stayed steady. He raced past Las Vegas, like only a boy with a name like Sweet Baby Sam would. Through St George, Utah, where the Ironman Triathlon had just concluded, and into Mormon country he lead. Into the nation's largest dinosaur museum and across the border of Wyoming, where signs met us, warning us to beware of the bears.  Good thing Richard gave me that can of bear spray. Oh, Richard, always looking out for me. I will miss him.

Speaking of Ironman, I went to Red Rock Bicycle Shop in St George and spoke with some of the men who competed. Dude, I didn't realize how gnarly the course is. It's a gorgeous course, but the winds were so strong this year, that 800 people less than usual actually finished this year. The waves in the lake were 3-4 foot high and the winds on the bike had people giving up early. Did you know this is the last year they are doing a full Ironman there? Supposedly, participation has dropped to a record low, so they are taking it down to a half-Ironman. With the heat though, I think that may be a good move.

 
Let's get back to my original story:

So here I am, in Wyoming. Grand old Wyoming. It's definitely beautiful here. The men are definitely gentlemen here. Why did they guy just run across the parking lot to open the door for my mom? Is he panting? Did he really need to dart across to get the door? That was strange. I'm not good at being a lady. I'm not good at letting a man be a gentleman. This will be a challenge.

Kaylee and Dad met us for dinner. Kaylee ordered the buffalo. She rambled on about how cute and cuddly buffalo are when the realization finally hit her. "He would be alive if it wasn't for me," the skin around her eyes became red and moist. I'm not joking all y'all. Real drops of liquid filled her tear ducts. "Kaylee," we reassured her. "He was dead before you ordered him." "I could have saved his life. He could still be alive, prancing in the fields," she mourned the loss of her new friend. "Uhhhhm, no, Kaylee... that's just not how things happen here. Welcome to Wyoming."