Sunday, the day after the wedding, folks began to drift homeward. My brother Matt and my Uncle Philip left early in the morning before I even woke up. Then, at a more-reasonable-but-still-morning-hour, the rest of my siblings piled into Ben’s rig and left.
Saturday, with its crisp air and clear blue skies, had warmed to a balmy 70°. Sunday, however, was cloudy and cold, and for a few minutes we even got snow. So we stayed snug in our rental all morning and afternoon, drinking hot beverages and catching up with the relatives.
All while this old friend watched us from above.
I took a walk with my uncle. Played monopoly with my cousins. Maybe not the most exciting day, but I was reminded of just how important it is to me to spend time with my relatives. They understand my jokes, tell the stories that I find interesting, and when I’m with them I will always belong.
Then, Monday morning, Mom, Dad and I got in the minivan and drove home. We drove through central Oregon instead of through the gorge, because it was daylight so we didn’t have to worry about running out of gas and all the little rural gas stations being closed. So I still didn’t get to see what effects the fire had on the gorge. Oh well.
The trip was relatively uneventful, until about 20 miles outside of Burns, when we heard a terrible “whap whap whap whap whap” noise. “Stop! Stop!” Mom yelled, and we pulled over.
A flap of rubber had pulled loose from one of the tires and was repeatedly hitting the wheel well as it spun around.
Mom thought we should put the spare on. Dad thought that, as the tire was not flat yet, it was in just as good of a condition as the spare would be. “Maybe we could cut the flap off, so it wouldn’t make that noise,” he said.
“I was thinking about bringing a scissors with me on this trip, but I didn’t,” I said.
“Oh! I have a scissors in my computer bag,” said Dad.
I never found out just why Dad had a pair of scissors in his computer bag, but it certainly came in handy. Dad cut the strip of tire off, and we turned around and headed back to Burns.
We bought some new tires at Les Schwab, ate some free popcorn, and were on the road again.
And, wouldn’t you know it.
Amy, after we told her this, felt very vindicated.
We watched the sun set behind the three sisters, and drove over the mountains, and were home again at last.
The Girl in the Red Rubber Boots 
Emily, this post brought a sense of conclusion to your series of adventures–so well pictured by the setting sun behind Three Sisters Mountains. Your sister Amy has a keen sense of something being amiss when the initial backing out of your driveway did not feel quite right. No wonder she felt vindicated when you told her what had happened with the tire! I wanted to share with you another adventure story about some friends who were driving in Eastern Oregon (but this time in the Steens Mountains) when their truck hit a jagged rock and blew out a tire. That was followed by a two-hour road trip back to Burns to get the tire repaired. Apparently this kind of thing happens frequently in that region because they were third in the waiting line to get
service! I think you would enjoy reading their story–so I’ll send you the blog link via an email to your Mom.
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I have enjoyed reading about your trip! I like how you shared the wonderful, every-day details of it.
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