Knackered in the Woods with Benzos

   Hey there.  Knackered here. As the Knackered brothers gradually evolved into something the parenthood called ‘a state of decency’, afternoon drives turned into actual overnight trips.  

     The first of these was an ill-fated camping trip during which  it rained for forty eight hours continuously.  During that  time our mother taught us three ways to play poker inside the new rain proof tent.  This allowed the much Knackered Father time to dig trenches around the tent in order to divert the water that threatened our holiday home.  All that ended with an emergency surrender and midnight exit.  When the Knackered Father finished packing and attempted to climb in the car, mother  told him that he couldn’t drive home in ‘that condition’.  Having reached the limits of rationality, he promptly disrobed in the parking lot, cast his  outer clothing  in a trash can and drove home in his underwear.  

   Down but not out, the following summer plans resulted in a visit to see Uncle Jeff in the USA heartland.  Personally, neither of the Knackered kids had ever heard of the man, but off they went.  

   First stop resulted in picking up Grandma Duffy.  She was getting ‘on’ and my parents thought this might be her last ‘rodeo’.  

    Left to themselves the brothers  read and laughed over road signs, especially the ones called ‘Burma Shave’.  They had to be quick with those as each one provided additional clues to subsequent ones down the line.    

   As darkness encroached upon the Knackered vehicle, subtle urging to ‘pull off’ turned to incessant nagging by the occupants .

   Yet Father Knackered hunched over the wheel and barreled on into the growing darkness.  The man was literally obsessed with mileage and nothing stopped his determination to meet the daily quota. 

   On one such occasion, they were forced to turn off into a large field marked simply with a crooked sign labeled, ‘Camping’.  As they pried themselves from the sticky seats, the sun dipped over the distant hills and the group was enveloped in total darkness.  

   Fathered Knackered, having been severely remonstrated for his ill judgement,  made quick business of pulling out the essentials and beginning to erect the ‘Mother of All’ canvas tents. Mother Knackered worked with Duffy to sort some dinner and serve up canned spaghetti,  canned  beans and a side of spam.  

   There was no campfire that night; the last tree sighting having been at least a hundred miles in the distance.  

   Crawling into the tent sometime later, Knackered overhead the Fatherhood  dragging the camp axe into the sleeping bag as mother stated, “God only knows what’s hanging around out there!”

   During the night fear turned into reality as something large and strange could be heard just outside.  Mother screamed  as Father,  emerged,  armed with flashlight and axe in hand.  We all giggled for the rest of of the night as he used up all the Kleenex in an effort to get globs of slobber off his face.  He had been kissed by a cow. 

   It still took a day’s travel over dusty roads to reach our destination. Uncle Jeff lived a million miles from nowhere, yet as we pulled into the farmyard at least a half dozen young  faces were smushed up against the car windows.  Totally knackered, we climbed out to be slapped on the back while hearing, ‘tag, you’re it!’  It appeared  that all of  them had become our instant friends.  Of course they did.