Two Fingers (pt. 4 of 10)
*Dear Reader,
My last post was in February 2025 and as of this writing it is now almost July. I know that’s too long, but perhaps you’ll cut me some slack, as I do have a pretty good reason: I was getting sober, which I am presently writing about and will publish on that subject very soon. In the meantime, for your summer reading enjoyment, I’m publishing a series of travel writings I made during a two-week RV trip with my wife and friends to the American southwest in August of 2023 that I originally posted on my social media accounts but have been asked to repost here. There’s a few references to my drinking, which obviously do not represent my present-day lifestyle, but that I left in for historical accuracy and for comedic and literary effect. I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I enjoyed living them, and then writing them.
Two Fingers
Aug. 13, 2023 (day five): Jolted from sleep by thunder that sounded as if it came from the ground, we quickly got out of Lawrence for a long, flat drive across Kansas, where the Simpsons-intro clouds and blue sky were in IMAX, and the wind tossed the RV around in a way that made it feel like we were sailing to Denver on rough seas in a wayward fishing schooner.
We stopped at a WalMart in Topeka to restock supplies, only to find ourselves stuck there- first, by a torrential downpour (RV parking was waaay in the back of the lot) and then by an overzealous employee who demanded to see our receipt for a $25 box fan that was in our cart along with over $200 dollars of groceries (?!?!?). Sam had the receipt in her pocket but had volunteered as tribute (long live the Mockingjay) to take the drenching for the team and fetch the Jamboree to pick us all up at the doors. However, this lady had us pegged as the thieving land-pirates we are not, and was not gonna let the global box-fan trafficking market flourish on her watch, NO SIR. So rain-soaked Sam had to park at the doors to come show this hypervigilant heifer the damn receipt so that we could be released from detention, which then vilified us to the entire senior population of Topeka that were all trying to pick up their spouses at these same doors, so much that a churchy-looking old lady walked up to our windshield and straight up FLIPPED US DOUBLE BIRDS 😱. We declared that lo and behold we had met the Wicked Witch of the West here in Kansas , and were tempted to flatten her with the Jamboree to see if we might watch her legs curl up and disappear.
We opted to let Karma handle this one , and made way on to Truckhenge, a home-made sculpture garden of recycled truck bodies, car parts, boats, refrigerators and shoes. The property hosts music festivals and looks generally like a good place to get both your freak on and maybe tetanus. My previous Oz reference is not by accident because our next stop was Wamego, KS, home of the Oz Museum, where we were pretty darn enchanted by the collection of memorabilia and artifacts celebrating all things Oz, from the multi-book illustrated series, to the 1939 MGM film we all know to the various spinoffs and adaptations. There were Munchkin costumes, flying monkeys, wax figures and even a machine you could get inside that simulated a Kansas tornado for two dollars. It was frickin’ delightful and is worth it if you have any love for the books or movie.
We arrived at the Wakeeny, Kansas KOA at sunset and were delighted to have our expectations exceeded (I mean, have you ever heard of Wakeeny, Kansas? Let’s just say that our expectations were low.). Make no mistake, there was little happening in terms of “action” but that was evidently the point- a gorgeous horizon of watercolor sky with golden-rimmed clouds over verdant, sprawling grasslands as far as the eye could see. By now we were used to the powerful Kansas winds. Joe, Booker and I tried to play some cornhole but the wind blew our bean bags around like wiffle balls so we gave up and went back to just staring at the sky.