When I was in high school, one of my best friend’s parents built a house way out in the country. Shortly after the house was finished, my friend invited me and another guy to join him for a weekend at his folk’s country house. He told us that it was in a great area on a hillside with beautiful, panoramic views, and the only way to get to it was on a dirt road. As a 17-year-old boy, I thought going to a hillside house in the country accessible only by dirt road for the weekend sounded like quite an adventure.
Bright and early on Saturday morning, my friend’s father picked up me and another friend, Greg, and the four of us — my best friend Joe, his father, the other guy, and I — drove to Joe’s parents’ country home. It took around four hours, including about a 30-minute stop for breakfast at a diner along the way, for us to get to our destination.
Joe’s parents’ country house was impressive. As we got to the end of the dirt road and I saw the place, I whistled and said something like, “Cool house, Joe.”
The four of us got out of the car and Joe’s father asked if anyone needed to use the bathroom, and, of course, we all did. Fortunately, Joe’s parents’ country house had four bedrooms and three bathrooms, so that was convenient.
When we were done taking care of business, so to speak, we all went back outside and saw Joe’s father driving down the dirt road away from the house. “My dad will be back tomorrow afternoon to drive us all home,” Joe said. “And there’s plenty of food in the refrigerator to tide us over until then.”
“Cool,” I said. Then looking at Joe, I said, “So what’s on the agenda?”
“I’m glad you asked,” Joe said. He handed Greg and me metal rakes and said, “Get to work. My old man wants all these rocks and stones to cleared out for ten yards all around the house by time he gets back here to drive us home tomorrow afternoon.”
Needless to say, the weekend at Joe’s parents’ country home turned out not to be the adventure I had anticipated.
Written for KL Caley’s #writephoto prompt built around the photo above and the word “stones.”
I’d say it was an educational trip! 😀
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That’s one way of putting it.
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Haha! You learned not to do this again.
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aww man that isa rude friend
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Yeah, I thought so too!
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That sounds like my dad.
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It was reading your post about your dad and the snakes under the rocks that reminded me of this almost long-lost experience.
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I wondered at having two long-lost memoires in the offerings this week! Good job 🙂
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Good one! Reminds me of the work my sisters family is going through in VT. Clearing fallen logs for firewood.
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wow! Definitely not an adventure! More like hard work! ❤
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Exactly!
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Wow. I can’t imagine doing that to any of my children’s friends!
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I bet you never went back to his house, huh? Lol
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No, I did not!
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Great idea! 😅
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That was a turn up for the books. I hope a feast was left to feed the starving workers 😁
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Nothing comes free or easy. 🙂
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I guess not!
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So were you mad at Joe for not telling you, or his dad for the task required?
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I was not a happy camper.
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