More Tombstone Tales
Here are some things Dad left out of his vacation story.

Dad’s really a pretty good guy. What other family would hop in the car and drive to Bisbee just to see a copper mine. Malachite and azurite, all right! Mom, of course, thought it was just a big hole in the ground. Then she saw the Grand Canyon.

It took us awhile, though, to get from Bisbee to the Grand Canyon. Arizona is a big state. We wandered from Tombstone up through Winslow, across the Painted Desert, over to Meteor Crater, and then to Flagstaff and the South Rim.

Tombstone was about the best tourist trap around. It’s pretty authentic, at least compared to Wall Drug and Reptile Gardens. It does seem a little odd how small and ordinary something big and famous like the O.K. Corral can be.

I’m pretty sure Dad never figured out why I routed the drive to the Grand Canyon through Winslow, Arizona. (He’s not much of a connoisseur of Top 40 music). Joy, at least, laughed at the joke when, after returning to Auburn, she asked where I had been and I replied, “Standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona.”

Joy worked at the Dairy Chef during the summer. This conversation took place through the screen window for the outside counter. They were busy that night, so I didn’t get a chance to explain to her that, although there were a lot of flatbed Fords in Winslow, they were all driven by guys. Fortunately none of them were slowing down to take a look at me.