Driving through a cloud

When I was young, my grandparents owned a tan Eagle with wood paneling. On the inside it had an 8-track and leather seats. I thought it was quite the cool car. I probably would not buy one today, but I loved that car back then. Even though the first time I remember getting car sick was in the backseat of that car…

One summer, while visiting my grandparents in Wyoming, we were out driving to somewhere. My 8-year-old brain did not remember what we were doing, it just kept the memory of my grandfather telling me we were going to drive through a cloud. Now, this phrase did not come at the beginning of the drive, it came as we were driving.

I was in the backseat watching the green fields go by. My mom was talking to my grandma. Chitter Chattering as they often did. I remember my grandfather being in and out of the conversation. We were visiting at a time where it was just us there, none of my cousins, none of my aunts or uncles; so I was kind of bored and just passing time as best I could. Then I remember my grandfather saying “We are about to drive into a cloud.”

Now, had any other human said these words to me I would not have believed them. But my grandfather had been a bomber pilot, and if he claimed we were going into a cloud, we must be going into a cloud. My quick response was “Really?”

My grandma, being the grounded woman she is, said “Well, its just fog, but that is like a cloud that just sticks to the ground.” Part of me sank.

My grandfather said, “Roll down the window. Touch it.”

I only have two memories really inside the Eagle. I remember that Eagle like no tomorrow. It seemed to be on a lift, with big tires. And the inside color matched the outside color, the tan and the brown wood. But more than anything, I remember that I got to touch a cloud while driving in the Eagle. Sure, it was probably just Tule Fog coming from a wet field. But for my 8 year old brain, I got to touch a cloud.