road trip

I did something a little unusual last night.

It's been twenty years since I graduated from high school. My parents recently received a notice for my class reunion. My mom threw it away for me. I'm in touch with all but a few of the handful of people from my high school that I want to be.

But I was also active in my church's youth group. My friend Manda, who lives in California, had plans to visit and proposed a get-together with that crew.

Last night was the night. Getting there required a road trip. I packed a lunch, fueled the car and made sure I had a map. I headed south on 35W. I drove past Crosstown. This is where I start to feel a little out of sorts. But if I need to go to a mall, it's usually Southdale. Plus, I drive several buses that go out that way. I continued down 35W. I drove past 494. You may or may not know that I grew up in Bloomington and my parents still live there. So this wasn't exactly out of my comfort zone, as I visit my parents on occasion and a couple buses go out that way, but I can't remember the last time I saw Bloomington on a Saturday night.

Then I got real crazy. I drove over the Minnesota River. To Burnsville. That's right. Burnsville. I had decided to push on without eating my lunch, and even though I'd stopped for a restroom break, I was exhausted when I arrived.

Fortunately, I brought along Surly Furious, to replenish my system like the monks do it. And John and Carol, our hosts, generously provided brats and burgers.

I really enjoyed getting caught up with some people I haven't seen for a while, and chatting with some that I have.

My friend Rick flew in from Oregon. While we were talking, he jumped up in the middle of our conversation and told me had something for me.

He's staying with his brother's family and took his brother's four kids for a walk yesterday afternoon. Rick noticed an elderly man sitting out near the sidewalk on his walker and said hello. They got into a conversation and the man's wife came outside. They were on their way to Old Country Buffet for lunch. They continued to talk as the old folks got into their car. Then the old woman asked him if he'd ever heard of Hüsker Dü. Of course he had and said so. He was a bit taken aback by the question, given the source. The woman told him that her son Grant was in the house sleeping and that he had been the drummer for Hüsker Dü. Nice. They parted ways and Rick continued down the sidewalk. Then old folks' car pulled up next to him and the lady reached out the window with something for him. It was a cassette of one of Grant's solo records. And Rick knew I really like Hüsker Dü, and that I'd probably like it, so he gave it to me. Excellent.

Good thing the old Corolla has a tape deck.

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