Missouri Summer

I once visited a friend, K, in Kansas City. I knew no one in that part of the country and did not think I would ever visit it again. I wanted to use K’s brief presence there as an excuse to see the Midwest. I can’t recall now who made the plan - I suspect it was him - but we decided to spend some time at the Ozark Caverns and drive down to St Louis. It would take us six hours to get to St Louis this way.

On the way to Ozark, in one of the country roads, I saw something moving on the road at a distance. A raccoon? A cat? No, too slow. As we got closer we realized it was a turtle. I was not sure what to do and so I stopped. Do I drive around it or wait for it to cross? By this time the turtle had crossed the yellow line mark and was entering the other lane.

As I prepared to drive, K decided it was risky to let the turtle make its journey on the road alone. He got off the car and walked towards the turtle. There he stood guard. Another car was approaching from the other side, honking. It eventually screeched to a halt. The driver was visibly upset and swore. I can’t remember the contents now. I can only recall being surprised that he could place our identity accurately, out there, in the middle of nowhere. K didn’t pay attention. He escorted the turtle to the other side and he got back into the car.

As we continued on our journey, every few miles there would be another turtle on the road. None alive. It was also not the last time I visited Kansas City. I married a girl from there.