R and J in the USA

We rolled into our Boondocker’s Welcome host’s driveway just as dusk was starting to settle in. They had wanted us to get there before sunset, as turning at the wrong spot and ending up in an irrigation ditch was a very real threat.

Speaking of threats, we were approached by the most lovely, outgoing, and enthusiastic couple we could have hoped for. They welcomed us to their driveway, where we would spend the night.

With a warm smile on his face, Mike kindly, but firmly, said, “Go ahead and get settled in here and then come on in and sign the guestbook.” With the same hospitable smile he added, “It’s not optional. Come in or we’ll murder you.” We weighed our options and decided to accept the warm invitation. We had never gotten so many warm fuzzies in response to a direct threat on our lives. We knew this would be a “kill you with kindness” situation, as these folks were as nice as they come despite an arguably morbid sense of humor.

We did as they said – got settled in briefly and then headed inside to sign the guestbook, have a lovely chat, and live to tell the tale.

They greeted us warmly at the door. Julie immediately saw the cats and committed herself to not breathing too deeply or touching much of anything in the hopes that she would be able to sleep without fighting for breath in a histamine induced stupor. 

They invited us to sit down on the couch. Between the four of us, no one would have been able to get a word in edgewise as they peppered us with questions about our travels and shared in kind about theirs. They had traveled the country themselves in the RV we had passed by in the driveway on our way into the house. They had already been to all 50 states, though over the course of years. 

They asked us where our next stop would be. When we said Olympia they responded with the snark of someone that knows the place well. “Why?” Turns out Mike had grown up there. Unless you grow up in a place that is clearly a tourist town, it can often be hard to imagine why anyone would want to come there. We described our state capitol visits and they started rolling out the stories, including how Mike, as a kid, used to slide down the railings at the capitol. Growing up there, that magnificent building was a playground. It’s so fun when you are a kid and you don’t understand the concept of “importance” in the same way. The world is basically just one big jungle gym, and everything you see, no matter how much history or abstract symbolism or cultural or economic significance or value it might have, your only question is, “Can I climb up it, slide down it, hang from it, or hide behind it?” It was neat to hear those types of memories laid upon such a place. 

Eventually, they noticed our uncontrollable yawns despite our repeated attempts to suppress them and avoid being rude guests. We had been talking almost an hour and none of us were showing signs of slowing down with stories to tell or interest to hear them. They generously acknowledged our obvious tiredness and released us from any continued social obligation, which we were clearly enjoying, but losing the stamina to continue.

They wished us safe travels and a pleasant evening. We walked out of there singing their praises as representative of all the lovely people there are in this world. We walked away quite glad that they had made us an offer we couldn’t refuse.