Riding in [trucks] with [farmers]

One lazy spring sunday, I forced Reid to watch the latter half of Riding in Cars with Boys, that Drew Barrymore flick where Steve Zahn, in all his creepy glory, is the father of her illegitimate son. I am pretty sure he enjoyed it because on another occasion I caught him watching How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days. This has nothing to do with the story I am about to tell, but it did birth the title of the blog.

Anyway, one of my greatest paranoias (among many) is getting lost. And by 'getting lost' I really mean getting lost in nature. I love nature, but I love it on a marked trail sans snakes and poison ivy. With plenty of water.

In the time that I have dated Reid, we have enjoyed many a trail and sometimes gotten temporarily turned around. On those hiking occasions, I was never too nervous because he assured me that he knew the 'landmarks'. Of course, I had no idea what landmarks he was talking about because just about everything in the desert is reddish brown and hot. But, whatever, he did NOLS, that prestigious outdoor adventure program that supposedly makes you an expert explorer and gives you the Godly ability to use the sun as a compass or something like that.

Unfortunately, NOLS knew nothing about the backroads of York, Pennsylvania, a small town just north of Baltimore that was supposedly the nation's capital for 4 days during the American Revolution. It was also the home of Reid's older brother who lived not far from the trail we were about to traverse.

Once we arrived on the trail and began tackling the humid mosquito laden land, our illustrious leader decided to take a short cut on the trail. Apparently, he was a little tired out after frolicking around a fire pit and carousing in the local reservoir all night (another story completely).

"I'll meet you guys in a little bit- just stay on the trail- see you soon..." and he was off, down a side trail that would lead to the end sooner.

Now, it was just Reid and I running around this York, Pennsylvania trail that had a bajillion off shoots and random bugs everywhere. Every few seconds I would ask if we were on the right trail. Reid would shake his head humidified hair and say it was fine.

As we headed up a narrow leg of the trail and hurdled a fallen tree, the great cloud of doubt crept in, but I braced myself and tried not to whine. I mean, everything was usually fine so I knew I needed to let go and let York.

Soon enough, the trail came to an end and petered off into a regular, cilivized road. Reid's brother had not mentioned us hitting a road, but we were out of the woods.

Well, we ran up and down over that road again and again while the air grew hotter and seethed with humidity. I was dripping with sweat and dead mosquitos and Reid definitely needed some curl care for his hair. And suddenly he stopped.

"Ok," he said, "now we are lost." Oh shit, I thought to myself. For once, I was right about being lost. However, it was not as satisfying as being wrong because when I was wrong, I was actually on the right trail.

"we'll just flag someone down, " he said and started waving his hand at a man driving a Ford Truck. The truck slowed down. the man inside confirmed that we were about a half mile from the next trailhead to get us back on the trail.

"I can give ya a ride up there if ya want, " the man whom I assumed to a be a farmer offered. Without thinking, we hopped in the back of the truck bed, and rested on granules of dirt. Normally, I would not get in a strange man's car. Or a strange woman's car. But York, Pennsylvania seemed to be the place to do it.

And after hitch hiking for a half mile up the road, we were back into the woods, retracing our steps. Reid insisted that I laugh about the incident so I did. However, I was kicking myself for not asking our driver to just take us back to the house. A girl could get used to this hitchhiking business.