My Escapade with Uncle Dale

A few years ago, Uncle Dale took me to his cabin at the 80 acres for the first time, a piece of property that he owns, deep on the Central Coast. -Just him and me. Since there had been so many family stories that took place at “The 80 Acres” I considered it to be a somewhat mythical place. I considered going there to be a part of an initiation into my husband’s family.

We took his old truck but I drove. It took about an hour to reach the outskirts of the property and it was going to be another hour to get to the cabin itself. It is very hard to get to and there are no real roads, as we know it, leading to the cabin. That last hour was especially beautiful with Uncle Dale pointing out all the special rock formations, trees that had fallen, and special haunts. The trek also required going through several locked gates and parcels of private property of which I trusted he had special permission to drive through. The road got progressively rough and non existent as we crept up the mountains and the truck’s tires trudged over huge boulders. It was something out of a Jeep commercial! All along, we smelled something funny coming from the truck but there was no malfunction that we could detect. Finally we reached his cabin, spent the day, and that is for another photo story.

In the late afternoon, we set out to leave. In first gear all the way down the rocky mountain I drove. At the base of the outlining properties, we found what looked to be the road at last. With another 90 minutes remaining to get home, I realized I had no brakes and we now knew what that funny smell was. Now when it comes to cars, I am a complete idiot and refer to the male species for all my mechanical needs. Deferring 100% to Uncle Dale’s then 85 years of experience, I asked him if we should stop or keep going. He did not give me a confident answer but inferred that I should keep going even though it meant driving through anything that might cross our path! When we got within cell phone coverage, I called my husband. He too gave me no confidence but thought that by continuing to drive, the brakes might cool down, and come back. At this point I felt like my adventure was just beginning but alas, I drove slowly, coasting through stop signals and eventually onto the freeway! Crazy woman I’m thinking! Uncle Dale and I did not speak very much during this leg of the trip. I imagine it’s this kind of non-verbal communication that you have with a fellow passenger when you’ve just been told your plane is going to crash. Sure enough, after driving another 40 minutes down the freeway, we miraculously came to a slow coasting stop at the off ramp closest to our home.

My escapade with Uncle Dale helped me feel even more a part of the family. I also leaned that day that sometimes in life you just have to keep going even though it breaks every rule and makes no sense at all!