Whithersoever Thou Goest...I'm Gonna Go

Whither Thou Goest...I’m Gonna Go

December 12, 2017

A rather uneventful Tuesday afternoon. 59 degrees in the sun, up from 16 at break of day. The Trucker is steering his green Kenworth across Nebraska on Route 80 West. His Passenger is steering her silver needle across a white piece of 14 count Aida cloth. Lively instrumental music dances from the CD player. The road is flat and straight, and empty. Laura Ingalls Wilder said that Nebraska is like Lydia Locket’s pocket. “Nothing in it, nothing on it, only the lining round it.” At this moment the Passenger would tend to agree.

Suddenly the Trucker reaches for the unsuspecting GPS unit, and with a determined yank, separates it from its base. Then a knife appears from his pocket, and is employed. This seems serious. Glancing up from her violet-threaded design, His Passenger inquires, “Is there something I can do for you?” The reply is an old family joke, “I can do it mineself.” OK then.

Next moment the Trucker produces a screwdriver from the region behind his seat, and commences whacking the GPS base with hefty swats of the screwdriver’s handle. At his Passenger’s inquiring look, he explains, “I don’t like the way it is sitting.” Hmmmm….does he like the way she is sitting? Do we even go there?

Now the head of the screwdriver is changed, and suddenly the base is in pieces on the console. By now the Passenger is sufficiently concerned enough to comment, “You do realize, that whithersoever thou goest, I’m gonna go as well?” He does realize. And in a few minutes, all screws are cranked back into proper place, the screen is reattached at a new angle, and all tools reassigned to their proper locations.

At no time did the green Kenworth sway, swerve, or in any way swing out from its path between the lines. At no time did the Trucker have both eyes off the road or both hands off the wheel. At no time did he lose awareness of the traffic around us. (What traffic, anyway?) I give up. I can’t even drive my needle with that kind of accuracy. And I will still go whithersoever he goest, ripping stitches along the way.