I forgot, in my previous post, to relate a memory that my mother recently reminded me of.  I don’t remember too much of it but I am sure it happened.

My grandmother used to love to travel.  If there was a seat available in a car, on a plane, my grandmother would be willing to go.  That meant that she frequently went traveling with us on trips.  My grandfather was very content to let her go and stay at home, but we got him to go also a few times.  On one trip to Monument Valley, she was with us.

A bit more background, my father rarely picked up any hitchhikers.  I remember he did once around Page AZ where a couple of young girls were thumbing a ride.  On this trip, there was a Native American that was on the side of the road asking for a lift.  He picked him up and put him in the back seat with my grandmother.  I was probably in the back of the station wagon and I have no idea where my sister was.  This new occupant turned out to be inebriated (as my father always called it) and promptly fell asleep.  His sleep caused him to lean up against my grandmother.

My grandmother got very uncomfortable with this and my father decided his ride was over.  He had a very difficult time getting out and my father had to physically help him vacate the vehicle.  However, that did not deter my grandmother from traveling with us.