As many of you know, my oldest, Skippy, is an independent, learn on his own sort of kid.
He's taking a year off between high school and college to travel the US and maybe find something he'd like to do for a job...you know, something other than picking out music on iTunes and watching "The Hunger Games" for the 19th time.
Last week Thursday he turned 19. He planned a major driving trip around the western US as a celebration.
This is a travelogue of his adventures.
Wednesday, September 19.
Skippy meets me at the door informing me that he's decided he needs to stay at a KOA in Nebraska instead of driving 23 hours straight to my sister-in-law's home in Colorado. I'm coming home from one of my very best 16 hour work days. I point out that he owns a phone and that most people are able to make a phone call by dialing the number and talking the person who answers on the other end.
So I call KOA and a make the reservation. He watches, and pays for it. It takes me four minutes. And now he has a campsite, with electric and water.
Thursday, September 20.
Birthday boy gets himself a tattoo. He's never had a tattoo, and we always said he had to be 18 and he had to pay for it himself. We also said he might not want to get a tattoo 12 hours before leaving on a long driving trip. He initially was going to travel with someone, but his friend dropped out at the last minute. Apparently we ARE the only parents who let our kid wander the country for nearly three weeks without supervision. I thought everyone did that.
Anyway, Skippy has a cleaning regimen for this tattoo. Molly, Skippy's girlfriend, shows him how to wash it and lotion it. He isn't paying attention because it hurts. Hubby and I are mildly amused and very, very quiet.
Friday, September 21
Skippy loads up the car...and then watches a couple movies with Molly in the afternoon before getting in the car and actually leaving for his first leg of the trip, a leg that, under the very best circumstances, will take 9 hours. Skippy leaves at 6:30 PM. He has not practiced setting up the tent yet, but Hubby said he "talked him through it."
|I know, I know...but he'll |
always be my baby.
Saturday, September 22
This is the Nebraska to Colorado leg. AT the end is family, so we are all very certain nothing can go wrong. I don't hear from Skippy for several hours, so I text him, and ask how he's doing. He says, "Tired, hungry, something wrong with the car, and I'm at a WENDY'S."
I feel his pain. I don't like Wendy's.
I ask him how the tattoo is. He says, "Scabby and sore." (He's learning something on this trip.)
I'm more worried about the car. So I text hubby who is midnight bowling with the church youth group. (Yes, this really is our life.) No response, and Skippy is starting to sound like they're going to kick him out of the Wendy's. So I go old school. I call the bowling center, and I have Hubby paged.
Hubby and Skippy talk. Turns out his aging vehicle isn't used to mountain driving and therefore balks at the idea of cruising at more than 50 MPH up and down the Rockies. After making several unplanned stops, and texting me play by play at each stop, he gets to my sister in law's house at about 4 AM. He's concerned her dogs will eat him. I'm concerned the bear the dogs are there to drive away will eat him. At least he thinks her cat is cute.
Oh, and his bank shut down his debit card.
Sunday, September 23
Sunday is uneventful, thank goodness. Autie takes him into the mountains, they have a good time, he hangs out with the cute cat.
The car is fine. The cat is cute. The debit card is restarted. Turns out the bank was worried about the out of state activity and shut it down. Yay, for the bank.
|The official drink of the 19 year old cross country driver who just got a tattoo.|
All in all, I'm proud of him. We wanted him to stay in touch, so I can't say a word about the late night texts. He's dealing with stuff as it comes, and he sorted out the bank thing on his own. So if that's not growing up, I don't know what is.