lake, and these two "Co-Leaders of the Known Universe" are left standing there with this "I can't EVEN believe this happened to me" look on their faces.
Later, the owner of the vehicle calls his insurance company and is promptly informed that sinking a vehicle in a lake by illegal use of explosives is NOT covered on his policy . . He had yet to make his first car payment.
Adventures with Bob
Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Eastern Kansas
by Barbara Rixstine
It was just like Luke Skywalker said, "I have a bad feeling about this." But to understand exactly why, we have to go back to the beginning.
Saturday, September 2. A balmy day, filled with promise and sunshine, perfect for the caravan of cars ready to head to Kansas City for the Annual All-British Event. After meeting at Southeast Community College, they were off! Roll Call: Espelunds, Ulrich and Bohlke, Shaw and Johnson, Storks, Andersons (Ben, Bev, Jon and Sheryl) and Evans. The author had to patch a tire before leaving. The culprit turned out to be a loose screw, not surprising considering the author. But I caught up with Flatwater and Her Majesty's Royal Patrol at Nebraska City where they kindly waited and where the Marshalls also joined up. Several miles later as far as I could tell we'd lost the lead British cars -- I was bringing up the caravan's tail in my Infiniti and almost forgot we had British cars in the group -- but they rejoined us from time to time.
And then we came to Platte City. Now, you have to understand Leader Bob. Shaw's an affable man, never one to turn down a friend in need or a single-malt Scotch in a glass. (Hold the iced V-8, though.) A mechanic extraordinaire and a true leader in his own mind, I mean time. Well, zooming along in his Jaguar, Bob felt the gossamer gift of directional leadership waft him down the wrong road. We all followed. Another waft. Another wrong road. Waft #3. Wrong road again. At this point, several club members felt the time had come to pursue their own directional waft and they headed off down the Interstate. Not so the Andersons, Brother Ulrich, the Evans and myself. Now, understand, I don't mind alternate directional paths; I've followed a number of them myself and found some pretty interesting places. That's why I followed Ben Anderson down a road that said no exit; who am I to deny serendipity and when had I ever gone wrong following Ben before?
On the fifth and sixth wrong turns, however, many of us felt like Skywalker, only we wondered if we were on the way to Alderon or the Kansas City airport. Nevertheless, we did arrive -- the same day! -- with only a healthy thirst to show for our efforts. (Was this a plot by the Eastern Kansas liquor retailers?) As a well-known English writer once said, all's well that ends well. The show itself seemed to show fewer cars than last year, and the barbecue -- replacing the up-to-
Brought to you on the web by Shaw's Garage
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