Crimson Pride

It was 1989 and my 3 year old brain was full of color and question. At the time, my family and I lived in a 2 story moderately sized mansion of mortar in a suburb in Maryland. It was summer time and the warm weather was perfect for the frogs to sing their songs of serenade. The croaking was especially calling that evening as it pierced through the brick of our abode and could faintly be felt on the second floor where I sit.

I was in the small office sitting on the floor next to my father while marveling at his new digital masterpiece of modern technology. It was big and boxy and controlled by the keys of curiosity. As I sat pondering what was on the mind of the man, I remember the faint of the croaks suddenly became blanketed by the suttle sound of a rolling rocket. It was a smooth vibration that crept outside on the floor below. Curiosity calling, I arose to my feet and ran to the window that washed the room with light.

As I looked below, my memory was met by a beautiful crimson caravan. It was a crimson red 1989 Dodge Grand Caravan. It was a time machine. It was going to take my family places that only the the crimson pride would see, and I was ready to see the world.

Less than a year later, we got our first mission. Legends of my brother's "Space Invaders" skill set must have leaked to the United States military as we were deemed soldiers of defense, and sent to save the world. We overloaded the van with supplies, pointed the crimson time machine southwest, and then took to the road at the speed of a family of 6 would on a 24 hour trip...slow...very very slow with sprinkled rest stops and spilled pop rocks; the risk you take to save the world I guess.

I remember around 35 minutes after we blasted into the unknown, the grueling road had taken its toll on my body. I began to feel heavy hearted with fatigue of battling boredom and my mind melted slowly and drifted into the darkness. Luckily, the crimson caravan was retro fitted with subtle sleeping substations for the soldiers aboard. We all claimed our camps and take to the floor like Tetris pieces looking for an empty space to fill. My older sister lay still in the station between the front seats and first row. My brother lay restless in the rhelm that creeps between the rows and sliding door. My younger sister snored soundly on the floor that waits beneath the 2nd and 3rd row. I chose the hibernation station that lie in the trunk of the train where the stowage is stored. I climbed over the mountain of luggage and rolled into the space that lie between the luggage and latch of the back hatch. The stacked luggage served dual function as storage and safety barriers to brace the blasts of the heavy foot at the helm.

We were all passengers on the crimson rocket to the lonestar state of Texas. We were riders in the calm, and as I rest my body into the nook, light escaped my sight and my body could no longer fight...3...2...1...and time travel commenced through the night.

When I awoke from my hibernation, the sun pierced me into life. Stretching out of stiffness, I could see Captain Dad calling to Major Mom. It was out of concern for the nourishment of the crew that was soon to awake and break the blissful sounds of silence.

Without warning, the rocket rolled right, and the white noise of the road began to fade and twist with the sound of tires rubbing road. It was time to refuel the time machine, and it was time to renourish the riders.

We stopped at the nearest refueling station, and scouted for sources of sustenance. Luckily, this refuel station was equipped with a fly thru mess hall that handed out bread on beef under cheese, that glistened the color of the golden arches that sat upon the bright red of the mess hall's calling card. It was well suited to satisfy the savory pallets of the passengers in port. As we rolled towards the drive-thru menu, we were given little leniency on time to choose chowder, and the captain called quickly to the cook.

One burger, two burger, three burger...more? One salad, 6 fries, and 3 nuggets of 4.

He was smooth on selection and hard on hessitation, a true leader without patience for the indecision of others. As we drifted up to the window, we were blessed with bags of beef and chicken that caught us encouraged.
We leaped out in cheer, and the crimson pride hit turbo as the wheels peeled out towards the lone star calling. We were back on track to the mission at hand, and we were nourished to silence as the golden arches faded behind us.

As the ship sailed further and the sweet drinks began to diminish, we began to lose sight of sanity, as we were drifting in an out of even keel. "Sugar crash" I heard Captain Dad whisper to Major Mom. I had heard stories of soldiers affected by this plague, but I refused to let it take its toll on my mind.

But as I look around, cheers became moans on the bodies and minds of the soldiers that sailed once sweet. It was too late. Sugar crash had caught us and our minds fell hard. We all fought bravely, but the crash was too much burden to bear. Some took it better than others, but I took it worse than all. Calm became anger as I fought with furry, and my strongest weapon became jealousy. As I look towards my younger sister's slinky that sit snug in her hand, jealousy struck my south paw, and with a heavy handed lunge, I made the slinky mine. I knew retribution would be certain, but I underestimated the strength she stored in her 6 year old soul. With a curdling scream, her cry for help was called, and a the sonic boom blasted from her howl that was felt like fireworks on the 4th of July.

"Heeeeeyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!"

The blast was bellowing, and instantly broke the brave of Captain Dad. Before it could take the calm of Major Mom, he met the boom with roar of unreason that broke the boom in two.

"HEY! I'LL TURN THIS SHIP AROUND! ILL DO IT!"

...We soldiers all turned heads slowly to catch the cander of the silent words that whispered from the fear on our brows, but before a thought could even be tossed, we knew it was too late. The ship soared right with a screech, and blasted down the exit lane. The captain's roar was raging, and our souls were sinking as fast as the time machine was falling. We all looked at each other with frowns of failure, and as the ship slowed towards the tee that met the mark of no-turning-back, the ship grew calm. As the tires hit the tee and came to a stop, I looked toward the captain. He was staring straight ahead into abyss that lay ahead. He was still except for the slow motion of his head shaking back and forth. I thought to myself, "He must be receiving a message from the high commander," and I tried to imagine the words that were heard by the captain when called. They went something like...

"The mission has been compromised. Sugar crash and sibling rivalry has struck the soldiers, and their training towards tame has been lost to the wild of child contained. Proceed with caution, as the affects of continued exposure to the compromised can lead to anxiety attacks, sore backs, and metophorical trains off tracks."

I don't think he got the message.