7:02, a beautiful sunny morning, and a second breakfast, that was Thursday. It's a one and half hour drive to the annual, and this year 54th, Tri-State Gas Engine and Tractor Show in Portland, Indiana. We've been attending for at least 20 years!
7:02, sunrise, according the the weather channel, and that's my start time! "Be behind the wheel at sunrise," cried my inner guide. At sundown the night before, I'd organized my purse, counted cash, and laid out clothes.
"Tooling down the highway doing [fifty] nine" to misquote Nervous Norvus' song Transfusion, I saw them. I saw those 2 semi trailers full of pedal tractors -- and became dubious about the weather. THEY ARE ALWAYS IN THE EXHIBITION AREA. But now they were going west, the opposite direction! Ut oh, wonder if it's raining.
One day every year at the show it gets buckets and barrels of rain! One year, middle of the night, wind and rain and lightning, the young boys in their green tent with flaps flying and sides swelling in and out, sang their war cry of SOS, Save Our Ship! They'd staked their tent on the bank of the creek that was a mere 20 feet away and were sure to go sailing! We knew this because we were nearby in our RV listening, listening to their singing for signs of watery gurgles, distress signals, you know, LOL.
So here I thought, "Oh no! The show's been rained out!" After a phone call to confirm sunny weather, I didn't know any more about the pedal tractors than before 'cause no one knew why they left the show 2 days early.
8:32 I arrived to find my family still moseying around, sleepy eyes, hungry bellies, and kids wanting hugs. They hadn't had breakfast yet! So off we went! This is where I got my second breakfast, LOL.
It was a good day. The morning was spent with Russ and his gang going through the arts and crafts and antique barns, then the afternoon was spent with Cal and Spen going to city wide yard sales. Friday was on reserve for them to all go to Man's Land aka acres and acres (about 40) of parts and pieces of engines and mechanics for swapping.
Right away, leaving the breakfast table, we browsed a booth full of trinkets - two dollars each or 10 for a dollar. Fun! We dragged our fingers through owl pins, necklaces with tarnished hearts, key chain tigers, and mood rings. Loved the jewelry.
In the round barn, a friendly older couple's booth was full of toys. This time horses for a dollar. The 4 y.o. Bubby wanted a brown horse with full bristling tail. 2 y.o. Sissy wanted one similar. At least I think she wanted it. When she promptly plopped to the ground, laid it on it's side and picked up hand fulls of dirt to bury it, I wasn't so sure, ROFL.
I wasn't too sure that Bubby wanted his hot dog, either. At lunch time he asked for it, but didn't like the mess the ketchup made and kept biting it while it laid on his plate. Finally, we were all finished eating 'cept him, so we wrapped it in aluminum foil, twisting the ends like a big piece of candy. This 4 y.o. happily carried it out the building, and up to the wagon where he and sissy would ride, then gave it a circling swing. It, slick as a skater on ice, slid out of the foil and "Plop!" landed in the wagon. Everyone's faces showed shock and awe!
1:22, now, its well into the afternoon. City wide yard sales, they can't be beat. You can get kids clothes 1/2 price -- fancy tulle skirts with rhinestones for the girl, spiderman hooded jacket for the boy. You can get brand new material for $1 a bundle, Christmas candy dishes for 25 cents each for coffee creamers for Euchre Troupe night, or new jeans for darling hubby, or Bath & Body wash for men.
But rules are rules. Tractors have to have slow moving vehicle signs or be fined, 168 dollars, sheesh! The drivers have to obey road rules or get the siren. And you know jovial Spen, he jabbers and drives, and makes funny remarks, and enthusiastically waves to oncoming cars that they have the right of way, or gives high fives to vehicles he particularly likes that day.
He approached an intersection when darling hubby voices, "There's a cop ahead, see 'im?" 3 of us are perched on the wagon behind the riding mower, a yellow Cub Cadet, while Spen drives around the town. "Oh, yah, I need to "stop"!" he grabs the low gear, grinds to a stop, and sticks out his left hand to signal a right turn. Being nonchalant, and pretending we intended acquiescing, we all blithely waved to the black and white lawman.
10:42, just minutes until quiet time. Quiet time is 11 to 7. All engines off, all peoples use four inch voices, all fireworks cease, all dogs lie down. It's the end of a fun and sunny day. But wait, there's one more.
On the way from the camp's showers we were told of another time when the boys were rowdy in their tents. (Hummmm, a story we hadn't heard before! My ears tune in.) They were happily making animal noises. Next campsite over their irritated uncle raised his voice in authority, "Stop making animal sounds. Knock it off"
Time for me to do the same, knock it off.
Until tomorrow; sunny, funny animals part 2. See you!
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