Page 16 of Born to be Wilder

“Keep up that attitude, Putin, and there will be a mutiny!” she growled back, but stopped arguing.

“I’m the captain. Now… stay on this highway for five miles,” I started, ignoring her grumbles.

I gave her the directions as my phone spit them out, and only thirty minutes later, Bertha rumbled down a long gravel driveway, each of us grunting and cursing as we hit pothole after pothole. Finally, we emerged into a small, mostly empty parking lot in front of a building. The place had the stillness of a roadside attraction in the off-season—quiet and a little forlorn, like it was waiting patiently for summer people who weren’t coming yet.

“Is this the right place?” Alice asked, and we all looked around.

I saw the sign in front of the round building and double-checked the name on my map. “This is the place. At least, it says it is. That looks like a welcome center or something.” I pointed at the round building in front of us.

“Well, you’re the captain. What are we doing?” Doris asked.

“I guess let’s go inside and ask if they have the Giant Lady’s Leg Sundial?”

“I really hope this is the right place and the Giant Lady’s Leg Sundial is what I think it is.” Marge opened her door and hopped out.

We all climbed out of Bertha and strolled inside to what looked like a small store and a check-in office.

A woman’s voice pulled our attention to where she sat behind a desk, holding a novel. “Can I help you?”

“Hi there!” I started toward her, past the postcard displays. “I’m not sure if we’re in the right place, but we’re on a road trip and looking for a lady’s leg sundial. Is this the place?”

“Sure is,” she answered, setting her book down. Then she furrowed her brow as she looked at my head.

I realized I was still wearing my Viking helmet and gasped, quickly pulling it off and tucking it under my arm while I straightened my hair. “Sorry. Inside joke.”

She just smiled.

“Sweet! So, this is the place?” Marge hustled up next to me. “Can we see the leg? And is it what I think it is?”

The woman just chuckled. “Well, you’re welcome to go and see it. Through those doors and out into the yard.”

I glanced at the doors and then noticed, posted at intervals on the walls, black text on white. NO PHOTOGRAPHY.

I frowned. That was odd. What kind of roadside attraction didn’t allow photography? I had imagined us taking photos in front of it, as I knew Tom would never believe me without proof I’d been here.

I looked back at the woman behind the desk. “Would it be okay if we took a few pictures? Out by the sundial?”

She shook her head and pointed at the sign. “Sorry. No photography anywhere on the grounds.”

Marge looked at me, brow furrowing. “Wait. We can’t get a photo next to the Giant Lady’s Leg Sundial? Because if it is what I think it is, I’m gonna need a photo.”

“Marge,” I said. “It’s fine. She said no photography.”

“Just—” She turned back to the woman. “We’ve driven all the way here and we really want to document this whole trip⁠—”

“The sign is very clear,” the woman said, firmer now but still Midwest pleasant.

Marge turned to Alice and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Give her the cancer card.”

Alice blinked back at her. “What?”

“The cancer card,” she mumbled out of the corner of her mouth.

Alice’s eyes widened. “What? No! I’m not telling a perfect stranger I have cancer to get her to do something for us. No, Marge. Don’t even think about it. No.”

“We have a get out of jail free card, the cancer card, and this is, like, the one perk of cancer, Alice. Let’s use it.”

“I am not leveraging my cancer diagnosis for roadside attraction photography!”