Page 30 of Ex Marks the Spot

She says more things: A semi-truck. Their car flipping. Surgery. Critical.

But they’re alive.

They’re alive.

They’re alive.

A few things changed after the accident:

Mom lost thirty percent of her function in her right arm.

Dad lost all function in his legs.

I declined my internship to move back in with my parents and run my dad’s painting business.

What hasn’t changed is my dad’s and my love of Xtreme Quest. We’ve been fans since the show debuted when I was in middle school. One of our favorite things to do over the years was add on to the dream itinerary we started making in season one. The last time I counted, there were twenty-eight locations on the list. After the accident, Dad stopped updating our itinerary because wheelchairs and physical challenges don’t mesh well.

But I think it’s time for a new itinerary with activities hecando. And after I get my share of the prize money, we’re starting with a helicopter ride in Costa Rica.

After touching down, we follow our instructions from the death bridges and make our way to a local bakery. Court opts to complete the solo challenge ofsourcing coffee beans, grinding them by hand, and brewing a cup of espresso in exchange for our next clue, which says:

Ox or Cart?

“No animals,” I say immediately. “They’re too unpredictable.”

“For once, we agree on something.” Court pulls the challenge card labeled Cart from our envelope.

Go to the Carlos Hernandez Ox Cart Factory and assemble an ox cart.

When it passes inspection, you will receive your next clue.

We flag down a passing bicyclist to ask for directions and learn the factory is only a kilometer away.

“We can jog it,” Court says.

“We’d get there faster if we took a taxi.”

“Absolutely not. My lap is still recovering from your hatchet ass during yesterday’s taxi ride.”

What I mean to reply with is, “I don’t have a hatchet ass,” but what comes out instead is, “You never complained about my ass before.”

Jaw muscle ticking and nostrils flaring, he analyzes some distant object over my shoulder, perhaps another invisible bird. When he finally looks at me again, his expression has transformed into mild annoyance. “There’s also the issue of Tico time.”

Okay, that’s a valid point. Eduardo mentioned Tico time this morning on the way to Arenal. It’s an extension of Costa Rica’s “Pura Vida” motto, where life is pure and no one is in a rush. I absolutely adore the concept, just not when we might be in last place in a race for a million dollars. As such, Eduardo cautioned us that although customer service would likely be stellar, punctuality was not guaranteed.

“Fine,” I huff, snatching the clue and adding it to my fanny pack.

---