Bedlam to Bedford and Back

On the first Saturday of October, our family went on a road trip. Inspired by Clark Griswald and at the mercy of a bizzare Mother Nature, we crossed county lines in an outrageous Subaru Outback.

Step #1:Install Bike Rack

There was no cycling on this trip. My wife and I just believed we needed to seize the moment. It was sunny; however, installation and parenting do not go together. Then, the clouds decided to unleash rain. So, now we have combined slippery conditions with amateur installation with haphazard supervision. Our children ended up running through the backyard half-naked yet fully satisfied. 

Step #2: Be at Peace with the Pumpkin

Call it a mystery, a tragedy, or an act of vandalism, but there is no denying the following: A creature of the night ate through my wife's jack-o-lantern and it brought her to tears. It bewildered my 3-year-old. My 1-year-old did not care because a slug found refuge in the mangled pumpkin. Security footage might have captured a Halloween-hating raccoon devouring my wife's work of art. But, we do not have security cameras. We don't even have cable. And now, we don't even have a pumpkin. We have an orange, slug house. 

Step #3: Get in the Car

It's a simple, four-word command, but it's sometimes the equivalent of "Walk on the Moon". My wife came out of the house carrying so many bags, you would have thought she was a medic in a war zone. 

Step #4: Find a Parking Spot

Bedford's Fall Foliage Festival attracts a crowd. And on this Saturday, it felt more like summer than autumn. Once we found a place to park, we applied sunscreen. Nothing like a nice October lather. With our kids in hiking packs, my wife and I foot solidered onto the concrete jungle. 

Step #5: Find a Treat

How do you beat the heat? Carmel apple slices. My eldest daughter disagreed with the decision to get slices. This was bush league in her preschool mind. My youngest was less perturbed, but passed. Thus, my wife and I ate carmel apple slices. They were delicious and we were sweaty. 

Step #6: Find a Bathroom 

When you go out into public with small children it always comes down to "finding" things. There is no thrill in having to go to the bathroom when a bathroom is right there. A parent needs that threat level thought that my child might pee their pants and those pants might be on my back. And it's 80 degrees in October and 110 degrees in a porta potty. 

And when you make it to Hebrews Coffee Company and everyone is okay, you celebrate a successful pee. I'll take an Iced Pumpkin Pecan Latte and a Wildberry Smoothie. We just climbed Everest. 

Step #7: Load the Car

Unlike loading a gun, this is much more difficult. Actually, I've never loaded a gun, but it's got to be easier than loading the car. If my wife makes another Jack-O-Lantern and it's eaten by an animal, I'm going to learn how to load a firearm. 

Step #8: Feed the Goats

I hoped that both children would fall asleep on the short drive to Jean Bonnet Tavern. The plan was to eat a late lunch while they slumbered in a booth. Well, only one of them fell asleep (youngest) and the tavern was packed. So, we sacrficed our own hunger and fed seed to the establishment's trio of resident goats. My 3-year-old greatly enjoyed having these wide-eyed beasts eat out of the palm of her hand. 

Step #9: Reload the Car

Clean your goat hands and get in. We are getting on Route 30 and driving off into the sun /rain /sun/ rain. What is going on with Mother Nature?

Step #10: Coal Mining

We wound up at Coal Miner's Cafe in Jennerstown. The outdoor seating was perfect for our wrecking crew. As the apocalypse rolled in from the west, our children got to run wild on the expansive patio. They even found a Daddy Long-Legs camoflauged on the brick wall. We counted his legs and I served as arachnid body guard. While this spider was most likely psychologically damaged, he kept all eight of his long legs and for that, he should be thankful. 

Step #11: Listen to Your Sister

On the ride home I reminded my wife of the threat my oldest daughter gave my youngest on the way to Bedford. In a no-nonsense declaration, "Stop crying or you are going to sleep in my armpit."

Step #12: Rain

As we pulled up to our humble abode, it started raining again. My wife was crying in laughter over the memory of the armpit warning. The half-eaten pumpkin was still in the front yard. It was a full day.

Good night, Johnstown. Take care of your families. Take care of your pumpkins.