The Clampetts Get Caught in a Mini-monsoon

My husband made a purchase a few years ago, one that I willingly signed off on.  Years later I've often lamented it as one of the biggest mistakes of my life.  You see, I've always had a taste for the finer things in life.  Which is a shame seeing as I don't have the required dinner jacket and evening dress attire to make it into the restaurant.  I like the looks of a BMW, an Audi, dare I confess a Range Rover.  I give you exhibit A:

You see that darling little girl in the puffy lilac colored coat and handsome man next to her that may or may not be in need of a shave?  Ignore them.  Look to the left.  That snow covered vehicle is the subject in question.  Make: International.  Model: Scout II.  Year: 1978.  You may have seen it featured in such films as Fools Rush In with a gorgeous Selma Hayek behind the wheel, as well as Hope Floats with Harry Connick Jr. romancing Sandra Bullock in his convertible "truck".  I mistakenly thought when we bought the Scout that we'd keep it a few years until we had more children and then sell it for a more practical family vehicle.  Like the time my husband highlighted his hair blond, I thought it was a temporary thing.  You know, after a few years it will be out of his system.  I was so wrong.  My husband loves it, with the same sort of passion I have for Red Vines Licorice. 

I have a love hate relationship with it myself.  I even brought it up in marriage counseling to which I was sorely disappointed as our therapist gushed on and on about how much she likes them and how a friend of hers has one.  "So what's the problem with owning the Scout?" She asked me as if I was being difficult.  "Well, he spends a lot of time fixing it.  A lot of time," I replied.  "So it's a hobby for him.  I can't see the problem with that," She declared.  "But...but...but...." I stammered.  Anyway, you get the picture.  The thing is I get the appeal.  I even like seeing my man pull up, engine roaring, thick dark hair blowing in the breeze with the top down.  I don't even mind that he smells like he's been snowmobiling all day.  The thing is the Scout is made for warmer climes.  It feels so nice in the summertime.  The wind in your face, hair flying crazily about as onlookers check out your ride.  In the winter it is cold, leaky and unreliable.  Which in Utah means eight or nine months out of the year.  That's my problem. 

Also...I feel like a bit of a...dare I say it?  A hillbilly.  Like I said, the finer things.  Anyway, Tuesday we were just headed out of Costco as dark clouds closed in swiftly around us.  We got the girls buckled in just as the first rain drops fell.  By the time we drove the block down to the stoplight it was pouring down.  We pulled the canopy of Brielle's carseat as much over her body as we could.  Her poor legs and feet were left out in the rain.  Ava on the other hand had no protection.  It was then at the first stoplight in a series of a dozen on our way back to the east side of town that I started laughing.  I had on sunglasses hoping to keep water out of my eyes.  They were soon fogged over.  Massive amounts of hair gel used to tame the mane streamed into my eyes.  And still I laughed.  We got stopped at every stoplight.  Ava and Brielle were both crying.  It was beyond an adventure for Ava anymore.  She was wet and cold.  I tried to stop laughing.  I really did try.  I even took out the shovel in the back seat and held it over her head to try to block the rain which only served to push me over the edge into hysterics.  My husband couldn't help it, either.  He started laughing.  And there we were, lined up at 13th and 7th waiting at a stoplight while the man in the truck next to us snickered and our two girls howled and me holding a hillbilly umbrella laughing my head off.  As we finally pulled up to our house I said still chuckling, "There is a puddle in my pants and I'm not entirely sure it's from the rain."  It was the most fun I've had in a long, long time.  Thank you, Scout.  Maybe I misjudged you.  Maybe.