And so, every year I turn down the opportunity to go four-wheeling in the woods surrounding my college roommate's central Pennsylvania cabin. My husband usually goes out and I did go with him once. I didn't dare drive. I rode behind hugging him tight and clamoring through clenched teeth, "I don't like it. I don't like it."
But this year, I was motivated to go again by jealousy and a beautiful day. See, I completely trust my husband and while he is far from an experienced four-wheeler, I didn't hesitate to let him take our daughter out for a little ride. When they returned they excitedly showed me the view from the top of the hill behind the house and I knew I wanted to see it, too.
|The view I just had to see for myself.|
|City girl four-wheelin' in the country.|
|Artsy fartsy feed corn.|
It is not.
Within seconds of hopping back on the four-wheeler, a red sedan screeched off the road and approached us on the trail.
"Who are you?" the woman demanded as she emerged from her car.
"Uh, uh," my husband stammered, "We are friends of the..."
"Kellers!" I offered, remembering my friend's parent's name first. I pointed back in what I thought was the general direction of the cabin.
"Eh heh." The woman grunted. "I see. I also see you have helped yourself to some corn. Eh."
I clutched the ears, a bit buttered with guilt.
Chivalry is not dead and my husband came to my defense. "Oh. Well, we just thought they would be nice for decorating."
"Heh. Fine." Flashing us one more threatening hairy eyeball, she left.
It is unclear where she came from, but she certainly ended our fun. And I am not sure whether she taught me to take even fewer risks or to take a few more. But I do know that our door looks smashing this season.
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