Day 11 continued

 

      My family met me at the gate, and after some hugs, we escaped from LAX as quickly as possible.  Then the Purple Lemon, ever worthy of its name, broke down in Burbank.  It started complaining about being forced to move as they arrived in LA and finally died on the freeway home.  Dad, brother Brandon and I pushed it up an offramp and through a stoplight into a Shell station.  We crossed the street and checked into a hotel room.  I was the only prepared for such a circumstance, and so offered to share my dental floss.  Charity never being my strongest point, I kept my toothbrush to myself.

      While Dad talked to towing companies, our insurance company (who was getting really sick of this), and the people who had only just replaced our transmission again for the I forget what dozenth time, I was sent on an exposition back to the Shell station for dinner.  It’s a good thing I like pretzels!

      When Dad returned, I asked him what he wanted, then ran back to the minimart for a Welch’s grape soda.  But I was nineteen cents short.  But Victor behind the counter let it slide.  What a cool guy.

      And that’s the kind of place LA is.

 

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Thanks for revisiting Nauvoo with me. I would love to hear your thoughts.