The Grand Canyon

We slept in the car. Mom didn’t. She’s the type who needs a morning and evening shower. There wan’t anything else to do but fall asleep leaning against the car door, Anthony stretched out across the back seat bookended between his two sisters.

In the morning, we pulled out of the parking lot and into a service station. We’d drive to the Grand Canyon and do another national park drive through. Someone at the service station informed Dad about the showers.

Hungry, stinky, and bleary-eyed, it was hard to be excited.

And then we saw the views.

On the way to find the campground showers, we made a few stops at scenic overlooks.

You’d think the most memorable part of the trip was the magnificent view, but it was the showers. Dad split some quarters with Mom. He took off with Anthony in one direction and we took off with her in another. Not only were there few shower stalls, Mom put Angie and I in one stall and she took another.

“You’ll need to be quick and you’ll have to share. While one of you scrubs down, one of you stands under the water. When it runs out, it runs out.”

You have got to be kidding me.

We stood back to back because two teen sisters in the same space, in a shower, is mortifying.

“You’re hogging the water, MOVE so I can rinse my hair!”

It didn’t work. Midway through, the water stops.

“Go get more quarters,” I snapped.

Squeaky clean, Angie gets dressed and leaves me, drip drying, my eyes closed to block soap from running into my eyes.

“She ran out!” she announces when she returns. “You need to hurry so we can leave.”

Typical.

I get dressed, my hair half rinsed with soapy film.

We didn’t ride donkeys down to the bottom of the canyon like the kids on The Brady Bunch. No helicopter ride. No real camping, just a quick drive through with a pit stop for a shower. The canyon’s grandeur did take our breath away, but we weren’t there long enough to take it in the way such places deserve.

On this never ending road trip, our next stop is at Hoover Dam. I don’t want to see a damn dam.