Have you ever had one of those periods in your life where everything fell apart all at once. For me it happened in the winter of 1988. Right after

New Year, I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me. A week after that I lost my job and then a few days before my birthday in February, my grandfather died.

Since I was no longer gainfully employed, it was expected that I leave for home at once.

I was fine with that, except that the absence of employment also meant the absence of income.

I didn't have the money to pay for the plane ticket,

and there were no trains that could take me

from St. Louis to nowhere.

The thought of riding a bus for 16 hours when a car ride would take six was also more than a little stomach churning.

Unfortunately, that meant driving my 1977 International Scout too all the way home in January with a massive blizzard building out west that was threatening to dump a foot of snow all over the

roads I'd be traveling. I love that old scout. It was ugly as hell and about as

reliable as gas station sushi, but it was mine.

I bought it secondhand when I was 16 and newly licensed.

It carried my belongings from Willard Springs to St. Louis when I moved there out of high school.

And to be fair, I had to stop in Fort Madison, Iowa for repairs.

And then I got all the way to Hannibal, Missouri before Madison, Iowa, for repairs.

And then I got all the way to Hannibal, Missouri

before another mechanic was required.

It didn't help that I'd chosen to follow the river all the way down.

It added extra miles and undo wearing tear on the old girl. But somehow

the Scout and I made it. Of course that was the middle of summer and now five years and a lot more miles later,

I would be making the return trip in a possible snowstorm.

I got the call about Granddaddy Friday afternoon. The funeral was planned for Monday the first, my birthday.

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