“I’ve got some good news and I’ve got some bad news,” announced my husband, as he returned from parking our Honda Pilot SUV in the parking lot, at the ski resort we visited last week.
We had unloaded the suitcases, duffle bags, blankets, pillows and groceries from the car and brought them up to the room. Then Marty had gone to park the car, leaving the rest of the family to arrange suitcases into nooks and crannies and put away the groceries into the refrigerator.
“Which do you want to hear first?” he asked. Without hesitation I answered, “Good news.”
“Well, the good news is that there’s plenty of parking in the parking garage below,” said my husband, still smiling. “The bad news is that the Honda doesn’t quite fit underneath.”
He continued on, “I only missed it by inches.” Tired from the day of traveling up mountain roads, standing in lines for check-in, ski rentals and lessons, I seemed to be missing his point.
“I forgot that the hard top luggage carrier was on top of the car and I didn’t make the clearance,” he clarified. “The carrier’s trashed.”
I thought I might tell him he was stupid. I thought I might say our luggage will never all fit back into the car without putting something on top of the car. I thought about reminding him that the carrier wasn’t even ours, because we had borrowed it from our friends, the Whitleys, who had used it many times without incident. I could say, Tom Whitley never forgot the carrier was on top of his car and drove it into an underground garage.
Then, I remembered that it was the season of grace and forgiveness and that Mary would never have chewed out Joseph in front of the children, and I didn’t say a word.
I’ll admit, I sulked a little that night at dinner. But, the next morning when we loaded our ski equipment into the car to drive to the nearby ski area, we headed straight to our car in the parking lot. It was easy to spot, with that big, destroyed black box on top.
I did draw the line on purchasing some rolls of duct tape to strap around the top of the carrier for a temporary repair, even though my husband, along with many other men, thinks duct tape can repair anything.
The rest of our time skiing was a great success. We didn’t break any arms or legs on the slopes. I didn’t fall off the ski lift, a constant but unreasonable fear. We even drove several hours in a snow storm, over slippery mountain roads, to visit my husband’s family, in nearby Webster Springs
So, all in all, I’m thinking that the loss of the carrier wasn’t such a big deal after all. We’ll get home and buy our friends a new one.
Anyhow, when we got to Webster Springs, the fresh snow made making a snow man, snow angels and snow ball fights grand for our Florida–born and bred children and their cousins. And, turned upside down, the damaged car top carrier made a dandy sled for everyone to ride coming down those snowy hills.
Plus, we determined that if all the blankets, pillows, suitcases and duffle bags didn’t fit back in the car, that tying a child or two to the top of the car, might make for a peaceful ride home.
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