Word Count: 6341

 

A good friend of mine mentioned that since we’re into the dog days of winter now, it’d be nice to take a break, explore some tropical environment, and search out the ultimate swimming hole (wherever that happens to be). This made me think of a short story I’d written a few years ago related to the subject, and had me going onto the hard drive of the computer, finding it, and subsequently re-reading what I’d written. Updated selected sections, re-wrote one or two lines, and the result is what you’re about to indulge in. Life is too sweet in this instance. Enjoy folks!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pursuing Your

So-called Passion

 

There isn’t a person alive who doesn’t wish they could somehow, some way discover the ultimate environment for carrying out whatever their passion happens to be. Let’s say you’re a surfer who pines for the most complete spot to indulge in your sport. Perfect sized waves that break just the right way. Pollution-free, clear water that’s exactly the correct temperature. The skies a perpetual blue, except when it storms, which is only at night. In short, the type of environment only delusional dreamers and small children have any right to fantasize about.

Do such places exist? Yes indeed, and some people devote large portions of their lives to searching them out. Basically in a valiant and strange attempt to appease some sort of inner psyche. Milo Wasserman happened to be a life-long member of this club. In fact, his brother jokingly coined a name for Milo’s quirky malady. Calling it “Holy Grail Syndrome”, or HGS.

Sometimes Reginald referred to it as “Holy Graveyard Stupidity”, but this had more to do with the fact that the older Wasserman and his brother Milo didn’t really get along with each other. About like your average Democratic congressman does with his Republican counterpart. Both of them infinitely trapped at the same cocktail party with a pool of deaf, dumb, and blind constituents on both sides.

Early on in his teenage years Milo had made it his mission in life to read about, search out, and visit places where he could pursue his passion. A strong, almost overriding desire to find the perfect swimming hole. One with hypnotically deep, crystal clear water. Its clarity so mesmerizing that it almost doesn’t seem real. You can see the bottom of the hole, but it’s so deep that even if you tried you couldn’t dive down to its lowest depth.

In Milo’s eyes, the ultimate plunge pool would definitely include cliff ledges of various heights and sizes. You then jump into the water from any, or all of them as often as you want. Visiting this ultimate hole is sort of like living in a drug-induced dream, only the drug are so potent they don’t wear off any time soon so the dream keeps moving idyllically forward.

Of course there’d also be an area right next to this natural pool where you can spread out your beach towel and impersonate your favorite Adonis-like character. Every once in a while, when it got too hot (which usually never happens at the perfect pool) you’d roll off your spot and casually slide into the water. Cooling off as you immerse yourself in this liquid luxury, climbing back out refreshed and energized.

Milo started searching out the ultimate swimming hole before he’d even gotten into his teens. Most of the spots near his hometown of Caliente de Chili, New Mexico were pretty nice from the standpoint of being deep with crystal clear water.

Unlike his town’s namesake though, Caliente meaning hot in Spanish, the water was always one small step above Jack Frost’s armpit. Originating out of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in the northern part of the state, ninety-five percent of the H2O in and around Caliente de Chili was only two or three scant degrees warmer than its original frozen incarnation. Butt cold? Does being locked inside a stand-up freezer sound like the kind of endeavor you’d enjoy?

_______________

Because the water in these plunge pools was so uninvitingly freezing, the first thing Milo did upon getting his driver’s license/learner’s permit was start planning his road trip to southern N.M. and the wilds of Arizona. One month later, the trip and its aftermath became the main subject of a not so riveting conversation. Taking place in the kitchen of the Wasserman residence.

“So then why’d you think you’d get away with it?” asked a flustered Reginald. Trying to look and sound furious as he said it. “What if the cops stopped you?”

“Fat chance of that happening,” said Milo. “Other than them wanting to see an unclassic Toyota Tercel in action why would they?”

“What if you were driving over the speed limit?”

“Most of the time I was cruising at twenty or thirty miles below the speed limit. Other than impeding traffic, what’s their reason for pulling me over?”

“Let’s say they stopped you for a busted tail light.”

Milo smiled. “Possible since you seem to keep that car of yours in top running order.”

“That’s still no reason for you to steal it.”

“Borrow it.”

“Whatever.”

“You haven’t even gotten a full-fledged license yet.”

“I’ve got my learner’s permit. Doesn’t that count?”

“No. What did you think you’d be able to accomplish by going on this road trip anyway? More to the point, why did you do this?”

“You know perfectly well why I did this.”

“Oh yeah, that wing-nut HGS obsession of yours to find the perfect hole.”

“So you’d rather see me building a makeshift lab in our backyard so I can manufacture a new batch of Methamphetamine to sell to the local grade school kids?”

“Well not that, but something a bit more reasonable. So what did you expect to find on this trip anyway?”

“Not much as it turns out. Isn’t my fault we’re still stuck in the middle of a never-ending drought.”

“Didn’t make any landmark discoveries during your Greek odyssey did you?”

“Nope,” said Milo. “None of the holes I visited had any water in them. In fact, the so-called best spot I read about was just a big mud pit when I got there.”

“Life is so unfair.”

“Indeed.”

“So now what, Sir Francis Drake?”

“Well as soon as I get my own car, since you won’t let me borrow that sleek roadster of yours anymore, I’m going on another road trip. This time out to California.”

“These things require this green paper stuff called “Dead Presidents.” Not having enough of them might be a slight problem. How you planning on financing this next escapade?”

“We’re going into winter and I’ve got the next five or six months to work and save up for next summer’s adventure.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yes.”

“This Ultimate Swimming Hole obsession is pretty extreme?”

“Why shouldn’t it be?”

_______________

Which is exactly what it was. For the next eight months Milo worked as an assistant to a local car mechanic. Luck was also with him in that the garage sat right down the block from the Wasserman’s. This fortuitous location allowed Milo to walk, or ride his bike to work. A good thing too since he didn’t own an internal combustion transport vehicle. Other than those times when he’d beg, borrow, or steal Reginald’s roadster.

That situation soon changed as working at the garage that winter created an opportunity for Milo to buy an old pick-up truck. Rebuilding its engine to the point where it actually worked, and then getting it to move forward for period of time longer than twenty minutes.

When it came time to try out the vehicle for the first time, Milo’s parents made him stick a sleeping bag in the cab, and then pick a warm spring day. At first Milo couldn’t figure out why they did this. Then they told him that if the truck broke down during his mini-trip, sleeping in the cab wouldn’t be any worse than forced vegetable consumption.

Instead they were actually quite impressed when he took the truck out and it worked. He’d always been an industrious and mechanically inclined lad, and this was a classic example of that maxim in action. Reginald was also impressed, but because of various sibling rivalry differences of opinion, chose not to make his feelings known.

Milo’s boss at the garage was also positively affected, and figured the mechanics at NASCAR should probably start worrying about losing their jobs one day. This had a lot to do with the fact that Milo had managed to create a three-piece suit out of a sow’s ear as the saying goes. Even Gavin Skinner didn’t have much faith his employee might get the truck beyond being pushed, pulled, and eventually dragged out of his shop.

Then a warm spring day with a distinct promise of summer plunge pool satisfaction to come got Milo to start formulating his plans for the trip. Since the western drought that had resulted in such a fruitless odyssey the previous year continued to persist, potential pools to visit were limited in scope.

Milo chose an itinerary that would have him traveling through the foothills of the Sierras in northern CA. The holes he’d read about sounded promising. As the time for his journey drew closer and closer, he got more and more excited about what he’d discover. Perception and reality have a way of not always matching up.

_______________

A little over two weeks into the trip on a bright spring day alongside a country road. Milo sat there with his map, assessing sites he’d already visited and their resulting disappointments. The prospect of impending hot and bone dry summer days already hanging ominously in the air.

“Can I be to help you friend?” asked Hector Gonzales in his broken, but slowly improving English.

“Well not really,” said Milo as he looked up from his intense observation of the chart. “I’m looking at my map and trying to figure out what my next move should be.”

“You will please to help me and speak slow. My English is not to be so good as I have only been in your country for a very short time. My home place is El Salvador.”

“That’s in central America isn’t it?” Milo chose to sit in the back of the classroom and sleep through the majority of his Jr. high geography class. “Cool.”

“Where are you need to be go?”

At first Milo thought maybe he should yell out his words, but then he realized this probably wouldn’t help the guy too much so he didn’t. “There’s this swimming hole near here I wanted to visit, but I’m thinking I should change my plans. Maybe skip it altogether and not even make the effort to visit the place. Every other site I’ve been to during this trip has turned out to be a huge disappointment.”

“What is this word, “disappointment?”

“A letdown. Not what I expected to find.”

“I am be very sorry to hear of this. What type of swim place did you want to locate?”

“Something with lots of water, that’s fairly deep too.”

Hector immediately started thinking about locations back home. “Yes, I know of this places.”

“The water also has to be crystal clear. Which basically means the spot has to be pollution free. Hard to locate those types of pools around here.”

“Very many people here in this place California.”

“Not all of them litter pigs, but it seems like all the so-called good spots have more than their share of them. Far too many people, this state is loaded with them isn’t it?”

“The man to which I have been work for says that everyone and their cousin will be to move to this state. Not all. My cousin is back in El Salvador.”

“California is nice and everyone I’ve run into on this trip seems really friendly. I haven’t run across what I’m searching for though. The ultimate Shangri-la swimming hole.”

Milo made a big mistake by saying this. Hector looked at him like he was another bizarre American. Reginald said it to describe a hole they visited once. The water was great, and they had so much fun that even Reggie came away from the adventure secretly not wanting to rub out his brother.

The word sounded good too, so Milo decided to keep using it. It kind of had an exotic feel every time you said it. Hector couldn’t pronounce the phrase, so he decided to not even ask what it signified. Thus bailing Milo out once again.

“You are to like to swim in natural places?” asked Hector. “There are many such as this in my home country, El Salvador.”

“Really? What’s the water temperature like down in your neck of the woods?” Once again sleeping through geography class was proving to be a detriment.

“Our place is very warm, how you say por todo aho-all year.” Even though Hector’s English wasn’t quite on the level of a linguistic master of the craft, it still ranked much higher than Milo’s non-existent knowledge of Spanish.

“You don’t have winter in El Salvador?” asked a totally perplexed Milo.

“No invierno senor. Our’s is warm at all time. No neve.”

“Oh my gosh, how is that possible?”

For the next two hours Hector described all the swimming holes he knew about back in his homeland. The place sounded like another Shangri-landia to Milo and he started planning his next trip. This time it was going to be an international affair. Milo wondered whether he needed a Passport for this?

As an added bonus, Hector got to practice his English, and Milo even learned a few phrases of Spanish. Eye opening for both parties. Despite the fact that like most Americans, he had no intention of expanding his limited linguistic skills.

_______________

The trip to El Salvador didn’t fall into place quite as fast as Milo would’ve wanted. Right off the bat, and since it involved going through a government entity with its requisite bureaucracy, getting a passport took a while. Basically the same amount of time as it would’ve had the application been re-routed on a camel train passing through North Africa.

Then he had to plan out an itinerary for the trip. This involved locating El Salvador on a globe. After a half hour of frustration trying to carry out the task on a pre-1910 sphere they had lying around the house, Reginald came to the rescue.

This sped things up slightly, but then the planning phase got really sticky when Reggie mentioned that his little brother should probably consider learning some Spanish. Even though Milo remembered Hector kind of talking funny when they met one another, he couldn’t remember whether or not Espanol happened to be the lingua franca of the country.

Thankfully he was able to learn a few words and phrases from Mrs. Gallegos, the retired schoolteacher who lived down the block from the Wassermann’s. She didn’t charge him for her expert services, but she did ask him to shovel her walkway once winter kicked in big time. Milo figured it was a small price to pay when you’re diligently in pursuit of your dream.

Next, with the assistance of a travel agency in town, Milo got in contact with a car rental agency in San Salvador. The ladies at “Memorable Vacations” liked him, and felt a little bit sorry when Milo told them about his somewhat delusional plans. They even made arrangements for him to pick up an auto once Milo stepped off the plane. Helped him plan out a route for his journey too.

Milo continued to work at the garage, and Gavin Skinner, since he’d traveled extensively in Central America, gave his employee all sorts of valuable pointers about the ins and outs of getting from point A to point B during the upcoming trip. Milo attempted to take notes whenever Gavin had something to say, and he tried to remember this knowledge by reviewing it throughout the winter. Another miniscule tariff to render when focusing on your passion.

Finally the big day came and other than the food during his TACA flight being worse than its usual inedible institutional slop, the flight was uneventful. Unfortunately Milo couldn’t say that about the rest of his Central American odyssey.

The trip to El Salvador happened a week after school had ended for the summer in early-June. This was smack dab in the middle of the heaviest monsoon season Central America was ever experiencing. Things were so wet you could almost smell the fragrant aromas of new mold spores popping out the minute TACA flight #44 hit the landing runway.

Milo probably should’ve noticed something was amiss when he cruised into San Salvador and noticed that it didn’t stop raining except for the occasional intermittent drizzle the first two days he was there. He obviously didn’t take note when even the sheets on his bed felt like they’d just been pulled out of a washing machine perpetually stuck on its rinse cycle.

As he lied down to sleep early on in the odyssey, Milo thought about how different it all seemed. His entire trip was beginning to feel like a 180-degree shift in conditions from the Southwest’s dessicationfest back home.

_______________

Things improved slightly at lunch the third day. Milo met up with two Aussies who’d just woken up from an extensive investigation/first person encounter of the bars in and around San Salvador the previous night.

The guest lounge of “All-the-Best Backpacker’s Pensione”:

“You two speak English?” Milo always did have a talent for inadvertently stating the obvious. “I overheard you talking about your lounge adventure last night.”

“Sure do,” said Trevor Richardson. “You must be a Yank?”

“I guess I am.”

“Good one mate,” said Patrick Cashman, “Slow down won’tcha. Both our heads feel like they just got pounded on by my uncle’s post-hole digga. Quite the adventure last night.”

“So you here to check out the parties too?” asked Trevor.

“Hadn’t thought about it,” said a smiling Milo. “No, actually I flew down here to visit some of the swimming holes I heard about. Finding the ultimate plunge pool has become sort of a secondary passion of mine.” Milo realized this was a gross understatement the minute he said it.

Trevor reached across the table to grab some pepper to throw on his food. Figuring this might help alleviate some of the pounding. “Good luck getting to any of’em mate.”

“Most of the roads are slicker than a Wallaby’s backside.”

“That is if you can even get to any of’em right now,” said Patrick.

“So I probably shouldn’t consider driving most of these back roads since the conditions are kind of iffy?” asked Milo.

“I don’t know. Maybe you’d enjoy getting buried in twenty or thirty centimeters of the gooey stuff,” said Patrick. “Never can tell what sort of masochistic things you Yanks are into.”

“So what should I do?”

“Guess you’ll just have to party with us till things dry out, said Trevor. “You look like you’re about the right age to waltz into any pub you want.”

“Yeah, it’s easy as Hell getting wasted in this country.”

_______________

Which is exactly what Milo did for the first time in his young life. In the beginning he diligently tried to keep up with his newfound buddies from Down Under in the liver pickling department. Then Milo woke up at the end of his first week and suddenly figured he needed to fly home.

Not because he wasn’t enjoying the expeditionary aspect of his daily forays with the Aussies. Other than waking up every morning feeling like he’d been extensively abused by sadistic extraterrestrials the previous night, the El Salvador trip was turning out to be a lot of fun. Milo decided he needed to return home because of what he’d read while attempting to surf the net at an Internet café.

He discovered that Arkansas in the summer is loaded with lots of hidden swimming holes. Where eccentrics such as him could spend months searching out spots to dive into the water. Magical places that would make you feel like you’d died and gone to a variation of adrenalin heaven.

Luckily the folks at the TACA Airline office in downtown San Salvador changed his ticket and squeezed Milo in as a standby the very next day. When he got home, Milo still had lots of money he’d saved for the El Salvador trip that didn’t get spent. He immediately started planning a late summer Arkansas expedition.

One of the problems you’ve got with frequenting natural plunge pools is just that. They’re genuinely native environments loaded with magical elements. Seemingly bottomless, almost transparent water, rock formations surrounding them, and spots to jump into this liquid heaven all over the place. Totally unregulated too. Which is the reason certain people are drawn to them. Basically in the same way flies are attracted to various road kill entrees.

Also extremely dangerous places if you’re not careful enough while playing in these environments. Earlier that same summer in which Milo planned his visit, a University of Aransas-Little Rock student leaped into a hole and mistakenly landed in a spot way too shallow to accommodate his efforts. Sustaining a spinal cord injury, he was subsequently lifted out of the water by friends, carried away from the swimming hole by EMT’s, and finally airlifted to the St. Vincent Doctors Hospital ICU.

The aftermath wasn’t all that unexpected. The first thing to happen was the student ending up partially paralyzed from the waist down. Aftereffect #2 was the general populace throughout the state being shaken to their core. In typical American fashion, the student’s family tried to sue the state, and overreaction became the order of the day.

Visits to unregulated swimming holes in the state of Arkansas, as well as a few other places, was completely banned by the authorities. Milo never realized this. Right up until the moment he was getting ready to sit down on the airplane next to a native Arkansan.

“Business or pleasure?” asked a boisterous Rodney Quimby.

“Pleasure I guess,” said a hesitant Milo. “No, maybe I should tell you pleasure is more my passion. That’s a better way to put it.”

Rodney looked at his traveling companion with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. “Pleasure and Passion son? Maybe you best explain yourself. Sounds kind of kinky if you ask me. Like you’re into some sort of weird masochistic sexual stuff.”

Milo sort of knew what he was talking about and thought it best to make things clear. “I read on a website that there’s lots of great swimming holes in Arkansas. I’m going there to check-em” out.”

“No you aren’t son.”

Milo’s look at the stranger was also one of a curiosity, but it also contained a little bit of bafflement. “You know something I don’t?”

“Kid got hurt earlier this summer. We ended up shutting off access to all of ‘em. Thank God too, that’s all this place needs is more negative publicity due to some wing nut teenagers.”

Now Milo wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he had honed his ability to intuitively know when not to tell strangers about his passions. This was one of those situations. “Gosh, I had no idea that had happened. Probably a good thing.”

“Sure is. We need to put a stop to this sort of crazy behavior these kids keep doing. You ask me, none of them should be allowed to do their stupid stunts at unregulated places like the one where that kid got hurt. Like letting these idiots play with matches next to a broken gas line. ”

“Of course you’re correct.”

“Damn right I am.”

Milo decided to lie. “A good friend of mine lives outside of Little Rock,”

“That so?”

“My main reason for traveling to Arkansas is to visit my buddy. The visits to swimming holes are mainly to see them. Neither one of us is planning to jump in. Far too dangerous.” Milo couldn’t believe what he’d just said, and being slightly superstitious he crossed his fingers as he said it figuring he might be able to take his words back later on.

The remainder of the flight involved conversation about all sorts of trivial topics. Every time it veered in the direction of something Milo didn’t agree with, he’d take the diplomatic route, steering it back onto an uneventful course. Being trapped in a metal tube for three hours, this was probably the smart thing to do.

_______________

Once again Milo cut his vacation short and returned to New Mexico two days later. The swimming holes in Arkansas might’ve been a little piece of Heaven on Earth, but don’t bother asking Milo Wasserman to tell you what they were like.

Milo slipped into a funk that your typical seventeen year old shouldn’t be forced to experience. Does the ultimate swimming hole even exist? If it does, Milo figured that for one reason or another he was being kept from visiting them.

This started to affect his otherwise naïve, happy-go-lucky attitude while at work. In an effort to cheer his employee up, Gavin Skinner proposed a novel solution to the problem.

“You know,” said Gavin. ”I’ve got a buddy in Hawaii who lives on the island of Kauai.”

“Wow, sounds pretty neat.”

“Yeah, he tells me there are some pretty incredible swimming holes near the wet side of the island where he lives”

Milo sounded downright gloomy as he said it. “I’ll bet he doesn’t have the forces of nature conspiring to keep him from visiting these dream sites. Basically every time he gets the urge to jump in the water.”

Milo’s funk was becoming a drag to be around. “How’d you like to join me when I go to visit him in October?” asked Gavin. “An old college buddies reunion. I’m planning on shutting down the garage for two weeks right around the middle of the month.”

“I guess that means you don’t really need me at that time, right?”

“You get a week off from school for fall break too.”

“What about the second week boss?”

“Ditch school. I’ll tell your parents to let you come with me to Hawaii. The world won’t grind to a halt if you skip a week of learning, and I won’t say anything about it being a total vacation.”

_______________

Just because it looked like his little brother might get a chance to enjoy himself, Reginald was totally opposed to the idea. Additionally since he couldn’t go on the journey himself, Reggie decided he’d vehemently voice his opposition to their parents concerning this planned vacation. Arguing that his brother missing a week of learning was setting an extremely dangerous precedent. Telling them in no uncertain terms that Milo needed all the learning his teachers could cram into that pea sized brain of his.

In the end Reggie’s arguments failed to result in any sort of change to the plans. Gavin emphatically confirmed this when he visited the ladies at “Memorable Vacations” and purchased airline tickets for himself and Milo. He could’ve just as easily done it on his own off the Internet, but wanted to help the business out. Sort of the same justification he used to keep Milo working for him. Despite the fact that there were times when he didn’t really need the kid’s help.

The trip halfway across the Pacific was fairly uneventful, other than Gavin noting to himself that his charge’s spirits were definitely on the rise. He observed this when Milo said that he’d always liked swimming holes with lots of terra firma surrounding them. As opposed to looking out the window and seeing all that open ocean with its nasty tasting salt water.

The first few days they were on the island of Kauai, they did in fact visit Napali beach a few times. The sand was soft with a pinkish-tan color to it, the waves a pleasant but not too gargantuan size, and the water warm. Milo was really looking forward to their swimming hole odyssey though, and displayed an uncharacteristic restlessness.

Gavin’s buddy Stephen Del Roy had a small little bungalow near the beach, but an hour’s drive from the first swimming hole they wanted to visit. The morning they were planning to hike to the spot, Stephen had to take care of a job that needed to be done that very morning.

Because of this, Rachel his wife proposed that they split into two groups. One to begin hiking and an hour before the others and made up of Rachel, Milo, and two other couples tagging along for the picnic/hike. A later group would consist of Stephen, Gavin, and a buddy from back in their college drinking dazes.

Things didn’t work out quite the way they expected them to, and through a strange series of events Milo ended up coming to the rescue.

 

Three hours later as Gavin and friends began hiking up the trail leading to this tropical swimming paradise:

“So you think they’ve already beaten us to the punch?” asked Bill Nigel, their old fraternity mate and liver testing buddy. “What’d they get, a two hour head start on us?”

“Something like that,” said Stephen. “Once they hit the starting point they probably hiked up the trail in record time.”

“I know one of them probably raced up the track,” said Gavin.

“That kid who works for you, right? Sounded like he’s really excited about checking our plunge pools out.”

“Understatement of the decade.”

“Definitely. About like your average Crack addict the morning the new shipment shows up in the ‘hood.”

As they trudged around a bend, the three college buddies were more than a bit surprised to discover the earlier group just up the trail from them. Obviously something had slowed them down big time, and both groups converged with one another in no time. Everyone except Milo that is.

“What gives baby?” asked Stephen to his better half. “We figured you’d already be jumping in the water by now.”

“So did we,” replied Rachel. “But that always reliable van of ours broke down right as we got onto the road leading up to the Kalalau Trail.”

“Good thing that kid who works for you was with us,” said Marshall Lovejoy looking directly at Gavin. “He tinkered around with the engine and got the van up and running again.”

“No thanks to your non existent mechanical skills,” said Margaret, Marshall’s soon-to-be former wife.

Rachel anxiously jumped in. “Then he said we’d need to do more work to the engine once the van has managed to crawl its way back to the bungalow. Told me he’d be the one with his head under the hood.”

“Speaking of which,” said Gavin. “Where is Milo?”

Everyone in the earlier group smiled. Rachel once again. “He took off ahead of us once we got to the trail head. Said something about not wanting to wait any longer to check out Nirvana.”

_______________

In many respects, patience was not a virtue Milo Wasserman had refined very extensively. As he dashed up the trail at first Milo couldn’t help but feel like he had to get to the plunge pool as quickly as possible. Hence the reason for literally sprinting for as long as he could handle it along the path. Get there, and make it fast too before something else happens to spoil the trip.

An unusual set of emotions flooded through Milo’s head as he ran along the path. Was it really necessary to get to this place as quickly as possible? No, not really. Running along this trail almost felt like being forced to attend a perpetual P.E. class with a sadistic instructor until the day after Armageddon.

You know something; in certain ways tinkering with the engine of that van was actually more satisfying than visiting this swimming hole will be. First you try and pinpoint the problem, and then you experiment with these different solutions to fix it. Hopefully you get it up and running again. Thank God I did too.

Going to this plunge pool will be fun and all, but I’m glad the van broke down. Forced me to come up with a solution for getting the damn thing back on the road. Rachel and Stephen ought to eventually junk it for parts.

Gavin says some people have actually destroyed their vehicles so they can collect the insurance. Maybe they should do that to the van. Lots of cliffs around here to drive it off of.

 

All at once Milo slowed down to a fast gait. Then a casual hiking speed. Eventually he stopped altogether. Justifying it to himself by concluding that he needed to adapt to the tropical heat and had to catch his breath because of it. Pretty soon the others caught up to him, and a half hour later all of them arrived at the same spot at a similar time.

The plunge pool was like a piece of Shangri-la plopped down for their eminent fulfillment. Milo did indeed conclude that it was one of the best spots he’d ever visited. Lots of ledges to jump off of into crystal clear water that wasn’t two or three degrees above Arctic ice melt.

Milo felt content. That friend of Stephen and Rachel’s told him there were no snakes or critters with voracious appetites for human flesh either. A comforting thought unless of course you were looking to film an attack video to post to YouTube.

Then he realized it was good thing that it took a person over an hour just to hike to the spot. Kept all the couch potatoes and assorted other riff-raff away from the joint.

Why was he more excited to get to work on that van engine?

_______________

Milo didn’t say much on the way back to the cars. He had a lot on his mind and had Reginald been there he would’ve made an off-handed comment about smelling some sort of burning.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” said Gavin. “I figured you’d be talking up a storm.”

“Yeah,” said Stephen. “Like a housewife conversing with her best friend at their favorite hair salon. So unlike the person Gavin told me about. We won’t ask why you’re being so quiet, but we will pester you till you’re eventually forced to explain your self.”

“So Gavin,” said Milo. “I’m thinking the van stopped working because the pistons are cranking crookedly. What do you figure?”

Gavin did a double take as he sauntered down the pathway. He figured Milo would instead have something to say about the hole they’d just visited. “I’ll have to take a look at it when we get back to Stephen and Rachel’s. Some times it’s just something simple with the way the spark plugs are firing.”

“Interesting.”

“Oddly enough that can keep the pistons from cranking at a steady rate.”

Milo wished he was as knowledgeable as his boss. “Ok.”

“As soon as we get back to the bungalow we’ll crack the hood and take a look at the whole ball of wax.”

“Sounds good. I’m pretty excited about what we’ll find.”

More astonishment on Gavin’s part. “What’d you think of the plunge pool?”

“Pretty good, and close to the best one I’ve ever been to. Then again get back to me thirty years from now. By then I’ll have had a chance to check out a few more holes. That is when I’m not tinkering around with some mechanical stuff.”

The drive back to the Del Roy beach house was the same story. The van sputtered along like an epileptic turtle and it took a while, but they eventually got home. Gavin rode with the first group and glanced over at Milo once or twice during the ride. He noticed that the kid was deep in thought and didn’t say much even when people asked him things. So unlike his charge.

The following week they made it to a few more holes the Del Roys knew about. All of the spots were outstanding discoveries and the weather pleasant. Whenever it did rain, it was a light drizzle that felt nice as it dissipated the tropical heat. Milo enjoyed himself, but kept talking about fixing machines.

______________

The night before they were scheduled to fly back to the mainland, the old college buddies had one last chance to shoot the bull with each other.

 

The living room of Stephen & Rachel’s:

“So all in all,” said Bill Nigel. “Setting up this reunion was great. We didn’t make fools of ourselves by painting the town, but then again we’re thirty-five years older too.”

“You like this place?” asked Stephen. “You guys should move to the island and make it permanent.”

“Not me,” said Gavin. “My car garage business is pretty well established back in N.M. and I’m still obsessed with skiing through waist deep powder snow. That’s one thing you don’t have much of in this little segment of paradise.”

Bill agreed. “Same thing in Utah too. Nice how you were able to drag that kid along with you though Stevie-boy.”

“Yeah,” said Stephen. “He seems like he’s got his head on his shoulders straight. A few French-fries short of a full-fledged Happy Meal, but he’s young and all of us were probably a lot worse at that age. He’s a good kid.”

“Yup, sure is,” said Gavin.

“I’m surprised. The kid isn’t as crazy about swimming Holes as you told us he’d be.”

Gavin reached for another piece of Mango. Something that they don’t have much of back in N.M. “He seems to have made a dramatic shift in character since we got to this island. Sure surprised me.”

“How so?” asked Stephen.

“I figured he’d be more excited than most C.E.O.’s after a positive Quarterly Report just came out.”

“Right after that first plunge pool hike?” asked Bill.

“Yup. He wasn’t.”

Stephen put two and two together. “More obsessed with getting back to my place so the two of you could pop the hood on my van.”

“You got that right. Fixing it was like putting a great big puzzle together for him. Guess he’s discovered what his real passion in life is.”

“Lucky kid. And it ain’t jumping in swimming holes. He still likes ‘em though.”

“Oh yeah. Told me just this morning when we were hanging out on the beach that discovering them is more exciting than when you find a winning lottery ticket on your night stand.”