He said he would pick me up as soon as he got home from work and then we would drive through the beautiful countryside on an adventure to pick up the week old baby chicks he bought from a guy on the Swap.
I like dates. I like baby chicks. I like drives through the beautiful countryside with my husband. So of course I said yes.
We took off in the Geo (the little tin can on wheels that Jan drives) across miles and miles of gravel roads.
And all those gravel roads were covered with new gravel.
Trust me when I say that driving on new gravel in the tin can car is not an enjoyable experience.
But we finally arrived at the farm of the nice older man who was selling the chicks. This fella was quite the character and entertained us for at least 15 minutes with stories punctuated with “dadgum” and “cotton picking” before he produced the chickens from somewhere inside the house.
We pronounced them perfect and paid him.
Then he continued, without a breath, for another twenty minutes with more “dadgum” and “cotton picking” stories.
We finally pulled ourselves away and took our box of chicks to the car.
I climbed in first and Jan handed me the box saying, “You better hold them.”
So I did.
Off we go, in the Geo, down the gravel road covered with new gravel, with a box of week old chicks in my lap.
Did I mention the fact the Geo makes makes strange and wondrous noises – especially when it is bouncing along on new gravel?
All these noises and wild bouncing frightens the little chicks. Do you know what little chicks do when they are frightened? I immediately wished for a thicker box as that tiny car started to smell very ripe.
I, of course, got a nose full and was praying for deliverance when my husband announces, “I think the guy we get our honey from lives down this road.” And he turns down a gravel road in the opposite direction.
The bumpy turn on new gravel really sets the little chicks off and they attempt to fly out of the box on my lap.
So now we are taking the long way home, in the Geo, on gravel roads with new gravel, while I’m holding a box of week old chicks who are pooping up a storm and trying to fly in my face.
It was a long, smelly ride.
It is safe to say that I did not enjoy the beautiful countryside, nor could I enjoy the lovely fragrance of the wild plum blossoms that lined the ditches on both sides of the road.
At least he came through with the adventure part.
Trust me when I say that I plan to be the only chick on our next date.