This is part two. Please read parts one and three first. Scratch that. It may be funnier if you read them backwards. You may pick up on a hidden message or something.

We get a hold of Kellie's mom Roxy, and she says she's sending uncle Burke to pick us up. Then mom called the insurance company, is put on hold, given the runaround by an out of state agent who can't seem to help her.

"We're by the Millard County line. We see mile marker 194 ahead of us."

"The nearest cities are Scipio and Nephi. Scipio! S-C-I-P-I-O. Nephi. N-E-P-H-I."

On top of this, the cell phone was so sensitive, she couldn't move while she talked. She was forced to sit in the van with the windows closed in record heat for twenty minutes. She gained more of our respect for that.

4:20 rolls around, Burke still isn't there, but we call Roxy back and she says she'll watch out for my sister's boyfriend Tre.

"He's driving a white Saturn, and he has red hair," my sister says fighting back tears. She was upset he'd be mad at her because we're running late. He tends to get mad at her for things like that, and she only blames herself. She's much more moody and sensitive than I remember her being. Plus, she's gained quite a bit of weight. I'm almost describing signs of pregnancy, and I know we can rule that out. We'd know if she was.

Burke finally shows, but dad has to stay with the van and the cell phone for when the insurance company shows up. Burke tells him (after waiting for twenty minutes) to 'just get in the car' and they'll stop at the service station and have them tow it in.

By now we're feeling better. We're safe, we have a ride, we have snacks, and an air conditioned Lincoln Towncar to sit in. Oh, to live that comfortably. I don't know if anyone else was thinking like me, or if they just didn't have the guts to say it, but while walking back to the car, I said this:

"How will we get back home?"

It caught everone off guard. Here we were just worried about getting the van to a service station that we forgot how we were going to get home last night.

I brainstormed farfetched and reasonable ways that we could get home. We could ride back up with cousin Ashley, and she could drop us off on her way to Logan. The problem with that was she wasn't heading north, but south. We could rent a car in Richfield, drive it home and around for a few days, return it to Richfield, and have no way back home again.

Uncle Glenn (husband of Roxy, father of Ashley and Kellie, are you following everything okay?) told us we could use his late 70's model Caprice to get home. Relieved, we spoke with relatives we had not seen in nearly three years, and enjoyed what was left of the party. Tre even showed up late, so he didn't have to sit for hours listening to family stories.

Some things never change. My sister will always be the one they think of as the model. They always talk about how pretty she is, they give her all of the attention, and they always try to snap pictures of her, which brings on even more attention. None are worse at this than aunt Jerri and her husband. He still remembers me as the huge sports lover no matter how often I tell him I'm not, and always tries to talk me into taking in a Avalance or Rockies game. All three relatives I spoke with had the same conversation with me.

"So, how are you, Jason?"

"Fine."

"What have you been up to?"

"Nothing."

(a very drawn out) "Nothing?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to school?"

"Yeah, I finished my first year at Weber State."

"Oh, well good for you. Keep up the good work." (if only they saw the last report card)

Plus Jerri expanded on this conversation and asked if I was dating anyone.

"No," I said matter of factly. No exasperation in my voice, not jokingly, both of which she was surely expecting.

That's another thing I grow sick of. It seems that because I'm 19, I should not only be in a serious relationship, but I should be considering marriage right now. I think Ashley, who's a year older than me is enganged. Suzie's in her mid 20's and she's been married twice, plus there seems to be an unwritten rule in the state that says, start dating at 16, go on your mission at 18-20 for two years, come back and go to school and meet that special someone. I don't fit that mold. I won't go on a mission, and I still haven't really started dating.

Everything is fine. And because I'm sure you are sick of reading this for so long, you can read part three at your leisure later today. It'll be here forever, but dont wait *too* long.

Jas

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