Wrestling with Ms. Weasel
On our trip we wrestled not with flesh and blood, but we literally wrestled with Ms. Weasel at every turn of the road. Who is Ms. Weasel?
My friend Nancy always suggested that I needed to name my GPS unit. Up to a few days ago, I hadn't spent enough time with my GPS to give it a name. No longer my problem!
We have been locked in the car with a 'GPS with PMS' for 800 grueling miles. We have traveled roads not known by Map Quest, twisting through farm tractor trails with the corn fields brushing the sides of the car, only to arrive back on the main road having gained nothing and lost time.
Ms. Weasel, my newly named GPS, must be a kin to Peter Rabbit because Peter Rabbit couldn't wait to get over the fence to run into the garden. Ms. Weasel can't wait to get off the main highway to weasel her way cross country. For example on Monday, our destination was the PA Grand Canyon. Sue was in agreement with Ms. Weasel's directions until we hit the first fork in the road. Two choices were before us: Sue's: stay on the main road or Ms. Weasel's: Take the fork to the right onto a dirt road consisting of two tractor tire tracts separated by a ridge of raised rock. Laura, being the balanced, logical one, felt compelled to make a decision. Knowing Sue's limited experience compared to the wealth of knowledge compacted in the concise brain of Ms. Weasel, took the obvious course of action: follow Ms. Weasel's direction.
In an instant of positive direction, Laura veered the car to the right. The maze through the cornfields commenced. The tractor trails seemed to snake endlessly ahead with no turning back possibilities. After probably close to twenty minutes, we crossed a smaller tractor trail. Ms. Weasel pointed confidently straight ahead. Straight up another steep strand of the tractor trail. And it was posted! Sue, by now had entered into intercession moaning. Laura was in agreement and turned the car around. Ms. Weasel was unhappy and shouted "Recalculating, recalculating!"
Retracing your steps through a corn maze is not easy, but Laura reprogrammed Ms. Weasel and we were on our new route. Because of Ms. Weasel's determined nature, the scenery was looking familiar again. Sure enough, we ended right back at the same steep strand of posted tractor trail that we didn't want to go up the first time. This time Laura's adventurous spirit took over and followed Ms. Weasel's directions. Sue's intercession increased and Laura forged on up the steep slope, carefully positioning the wheels of the car so as not to rip off the oil pan. (We were helpless since there was no cell phone signal and out in the middle of now where with Ms. Weasel's attitude problem).
As we continued, Ms. Weasel blurted out "turn right on Route 660 in .25 miles" Sue was relieved since she recognized Route 660 as the paved road that she wanted us to stay on in the first place. On the corner of Route 660 and the tractor trail was a familiar landmark, a red brick church.
This was only the first round of the wrestling match we have endured with Ms. Weasel. She continued to guide us off the main roads, weaseling over the country and through the woods. However, as of tonight, we have laid hands on her and prayed for Ms. Weasel. In faith, we look forward to a better day of traveling tomorrow.
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