Much Ado About Nothing

Everyone who passed our red Ford Explorer was laughing, pointing at the back and waving.

"They'll be telling stories about us for a few days," said my neighbor, who was driving. We had bought three bull calves from the dairy down the hill. They weren't ready for pick up all at once, just one at a time. My neighbor didn't want to drag her horse trailer all the way down the hill for one baby calf. Instead, she was sure, a tarp over the floor in the back of her Ford Explorer would be fine.

Of course, we hadn't anticipated he'd have the scours (that would be diarrhea in city-talk). He insisted on standing and looking out the back window, his tail wiggled over the kids' heads in the middle seat section. Rose did some pretty fancy bobbing, ducking, and weaving in an effort to stay away from his tail. We finally threw an old towel over his back end and made him a large diaper.

And so we drove up the mountain highway in fine form. Two women in the front seat of a Red Ford Explorer, three children ducking and bobbing in the middle seat, and a baby bull calf wearing a towel for a diaper staring out the window as the world whizzed by. I wonder what all those people were pointing at?