Tales of the Trip Home

Harley boarded the Southern Pacific “Overland Route” in Sacramento, rode through Carson City, Salt Lake City, and Denver. It took a short jog south to Colorado Springs. There he boarded a Rock Island Line train that went through Lincoln, Omaha, and to Des Moines. He held his valise in his lap the whole trip. Aunt Polly had packed him a grub sack of sandwiches and fruit. Actually, it was a tin lunch box. Harley had left his grub sack on the ranch. He was careful and only spent about fifty cents of the money she had given him. He felt like he wanted to have a little cash to show his parents when he explained what had happened to his college money.

Arriving at the Des Moines station, Harley was surprised when he saw his friend Mike first, towering above the other people on the platform. He must have been home early from the university for Thanksgiving Break. Lena was right next to him, but barely visible in the quickening dimness. The train was arriving later than scheduled; about three hours later, so it was nearly dark at six. Next week was Thanksgiving and the days were getting shorter quickly. Harley took the last step off the train and realized Mike had steered his mother so she was right in front of him. Lena gave him a warm hug and stepped back to take a look at him.

“None too worse for the wear,” she observed. Then she chuckled, “You and Mike here are going to have to have a wrassling match to see who is the strongest now, after all the work you two have done since graduation! It appears to me, son, that Uncle Gene took good care of you. I cannot wait for your father to see you. Is that little tote all you have?”

“Gee, Mom, you didn’t want me bringing all my dirty clothes home, did you? Remember, I didn’t take much with me. I was traveling with a bindle, Mom. I just had the basics, and I left most of that in Washington.” Harley did not want to have to explain right there at the train, about how he had everything stolen. “How did you two get here? How are we getting home?” Harley asked, hoping to change the topic.

“We brought my dad’s sedan. Jim is working on your dad’s truck right now. I’ll take Dad’s car back to him in the morning,” explained Mike.

“What’s wrong with the truck, Mother?” asked Harley.

“Nothing big. Nothing Jim can’t fix right away. Your father asked him to take a look at. Mike said it was making too much noise, that’s all. Probably just a muffler.”

“Or,” Mike added, “it could just be needing a different oil or something for the cooler weather. Jim will have it taken care of by noon tomorrow. Don’t worry about it.”

They got into the sedan, with Mike driving and Lena in the front with him. Harley slipped into the back seat with his little valise and laid his head on the back of the seat. “I’m really tired, Mother. Do you mind if I just close my eyes for a few minutes?”

Lena answered quickly, “You close your eyes all the way home, Harley. You can greet your father when we get there, and then sleep tonight in your own room again. I put a cot in there for Mike. He is going to stay through the weekend, so you just rest, starting right now.”

“Thank you, Mother…and Mike,” Harley murmured as he closed his eyes and was quickly sleeping.

Mike drove carefully out of the station parking lot and guided the car towards Grand Avenue, heading west. He could take Grand to 8th Street in Valley Junction, head north to Buffalo Road, drive about a mile west on that, and then head north again on Clive Road. It was about four miles farther north from there to Meredith Drive, and then he would turn north one more time on Seibert Road. Two and a half miles north of Meredith was where Charley and Lena’s farm waited.

Lena had some chicken and noodles in a pot on the stove, ready for an easy welcome-home dinner. It was one of Harley’s favorites, so she knew he would eat it, no matter how tired he was. Harley was thrilled when he got home; as they drove up he could see his father sitting is his old red leather lounge chair through the living room window. The last time Harley was home, his father was still not getting around much except for the brief graduation outing. Harley leaped out of the back seat, ran up the stairs on the porch side of the house, through the kitchen and into the parlor.

“Hey there, son,” Charley greeted him, “slow down a little bit. Did you wipe your feet, even?” Then he laughed heartily. “Come on over here, boy, and shake your old man’s hand. Welcome home!”

Harley shook his hand, firmly, the way Uncle Gene admired. “You are looking good and strong, Harley. Did it go good on the ranch?” his father inquired.

“Yessir, I sure did learn a lot about apples and sheep. It’s a whole different kind of crop and a different kind of critter,” Harley informed him. “I’m happy to be back to corn and hogs, that’s for sure!”

Lena and Mike caught up with Harley. As they watched the reunion of father and son, Lena said, “Why don’t we hear all about this grand adventure over dinner, boys? Everything is hot and ready.”

Harley was ready for his mother’s cooking again, but not quite sure he was ready to give them the bad news about his college money. He hoped he could wait until tomorrow morning, after Mike took his father’s car back. That’s what he decided he was going to try to do. They had plenty of things to talk about; the rail riding, his hobo friends, his ranch adventures, his visit with Aunt Polly…lots of other topics, he hoped. He hoped correctly. Lena was horrified by his train-hopping stories and Mike wanted all the details about Leo, Adam, Mark, and Clarence. Charley wanted every second of the horse and rattlesnake incident retold a couple of times. And Lena, of course, listened intently as Harley relayed his time in Sacramento. It was so wonderful to be home, that for just a few moments, Harley actually did not think about his missing money.

Lena had made an apple pie and after Mike and Harley had two large pieces each, there was none left. Charley grumbled a little, but Lena assured him there would be another pie tomorrow night. Harley finally knew he had to get to bed, so he excused himself, kissed his mother goodnight, gave his father a hug, and shook hands with Mike.

Heading down the hall with Mike, Harley hollered over his shoulder at his parents who were still sitting at the kitchen t able, “It sure is great to be back home!” Lena heard the click of his bedroom door closing.

Almost whispering, she said to herself, “It sure is great to have you back home.”

Harley’s head hit the pillow, and even though he had assumed he would be kept awake all night worrying about how to break his bad news to his parents, he was soundly asleep within minutes.