Page 56 of Reckless

“You always have to be aware of the blind spots,” I tell him again. “Keep checking your mirrors, especially the blind spot mirror.”

“Yeah, I know. I am.”

He puts his foot down on the gas a little harder, so we pick up some speed. He’s grinning from ear to ear. I don’t have the heart to tell him to ease off. We’re fine for now with no one around us to worry about.

I must admit, he’s taken to it quickly. I still don’t trust him to park my baby, but driving along the highway, he might be okay.

When we first got here, I made him walk around the entire RV. He was like a restless little kid, wanting to get behind the wheel, but driving an RV is so much more than operating from the driver’s seat, and it is non-negotiable. He quietened down after that and paid attention.

You have to know the dimensions of the RV, the blind spots, the tail swing and, as obvious as it might be, the height of the vehicle. I’ve seen people driving RVs into gas stations before now get wedged on the roof. If he’s going to learn, he’s going to do it right.

After another couple of runs, I let him turn and even though he does it slowly, he doesn’t do any damage, or drive us off the road.

“Can I?” he asks, bouncing in the seat.

We’re approaching the road that will take us back to the highway. It’s narrower than this and there are a couple of tight turns, but I give him the go ahead.

“Just promise if we get stuck, you’ll move your ass and let me take over.”

“Relax, I got this.”

“Hmm.”

Give him his due, he concentrates as we get back onto a more populated road and even though I’m squeezing my nails into my palms, he gets us onto the I-90 with no mishaps. I remind him of the speed limit and to stay in the correct lane. We will not be overtaking anyone.

Eventually, I relax my death grip and enjoy the fact I’m not driving for a change. The whole point of him driving was to give me a chance to get writing done, but I’m still not ready to give him total control.

The plan is to drive straight through to Sioux Falls. I’m not meeting up with my friends until tomorrow, so I let Jude decide what he wants to do today when we arrive. He picked Falls Park.

I understand why. When we’re in outdoor, wide-open spaces, there is less chance of people focusing on him over the sights. I’m not averse to it. I love nature. I wish he could experience some of the other things the city has to offer, but we could never stroll into one of the breweries or museums without him being recognized.

The good thing is there is plenty to do in Falls Park, including hiring bikes, which I plan on doing when we get there.

“Tell me about your friends, the ones you’re meeting tomorrow,” he says.

“We all met in college. Drew and Wayne have been together since sophomore year. They got married three years ago. We catch up twice a year, I go to them and vice versa. And we always do the same thing when we’re here.”

“What’s that?” he asks, glancing at me, then straight back to the road.

“There’s a club we always go to. It’s chill, exclusive, lots of tequila and champagne.”

Not exactly the entire story, but it’s all I’ll say right now.

“You mean you go out with your college buddies and get trashed?”

“More or less.”

“I can’t picture you wasted. You’re too… grown up.”

“What does that mean?” I twist the chair to face him. “Are you saying I’m old?”

“No, of course not. I’m saying you have your head screwed on, you’re responsible. I’ve been with you the last five days and all I’ve seen you drink is that fake alcohol, watered down swill you call beer.”

“It’s not that bad.”

He gives me a look. Okay, it is that bad. “I don’t drink because a lot of the time I’m driving. I want to keep a clear head. Believe me, I’ve seen enough accidents on my travels to know it’s not worth risking it.”

“But your night with your friends is the exception? Tell me it isn’t something that only happens once a year. Everyone needs to loosen up now and then.”

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