The Wisconsin Skier

Note: What follows below and under posts entitled Turn Quest are works of fiction. Any resemblance to characters living or dead is likely but unintentional. I don’t know how many installments will make up the story, but I hope enough to be a small novella (a novelita?).

Turn Quest

Jim had a hard time getting sound sleep. It was 3:52 am and Jim’s nose was long numb to Sally’s perfume and the lingering odors of romance. He was restless and turned his head over and studied the silhouette of his sleeping wife. The essential shape was there but muffled by the thick wool quilt that kept them warm. His study was interrupted by the thoughts of the busy day in front of them and their departure on a long awaited trip. He kept wondering if he really needed to perform all of the errands on the list and how to complete them as soon as possible.

It was a long time since Jim and his family took a grand trip and since the children were now out of diapers at least they would not have that problem, but of course older children meant other hassles. Stopping for frequent bio-breaks, threatening to stop the car on a regular basis, feeding the kids, and putting up with the Are we almost there yet? question (and he put the over/under for the first instance of that question at 20 minutes of driving into a 18 hour trip). They had books, a list of games to occupy the children’s attentions, and plenty of children’s snacks and drinks on hand. However prepared they were he knew there would be problems and only he among the four was expected to bear hardships calmly and patiently.

The Tahoe they owned was just in the garage for maintenance, a checkup, and tire rotation. Still the vehicle was well aged and the checkup did not involve any diagnostic surgery. It could be the waterpump is on the verge of breaking, the fuel pump might be ready to pump its last gallon, or who knows what else could unexpectedly go kerput? Still, he thought that is always the case even on a short trip to buy a case of beer or a loaf of bread; to worry about such things is useless and dropped that thought and returned to the his wife’s sleeping silhouette and faded to sleep.