On our first road trip together, my husband and I had “The Scones Incident”.
“Could you offer me a large coffee?” he asked outside a Starbucks in Barstow. But when I got back to the car, I was only holding one cup.
“Where’s my coffee?” ” he said.
I held the bag in my other hand. “I was distracted by the baking business. There were scones!
He just shook his head and laughed.
It was cool.
Because two decades and countless miles later, I’m still distracted by scones, only now they’re signs of historic landmarks.
“Wait, ‘the world’s first long distance phone line?! Can we check, please?!” I cried as we drove down Highway 20 near Grass Valley last summer, I had no idea there was such a thing in Northern California, and now I had to see it.
Somewhat miraculously, my husband agreed to walk up Pleasant Valley Road to French Corral, the small town where the phone line had been stretched. But while there’s really nothing else in French Corral except for a few houses and a barn-like Wells Fargo building, we couldn’t find that promised piece of history. , even if we went there twice that first day.
I thought I would never see this marker, but when we passed the sign on the highway. 20 on the way back from Grass Valley the next day, my husband asked with a sigh, “Do you want to try again?”
Of course I did! And this time, when we crawled down that road once we reached French Corral, our eyes wide, I finally spotted the marker, which is barely bigger than a mailbox, with no sign beside it. .
But it’s right next to someone’s driveway, which is probably why it’s so hard to find. Maybe there was a sign and whoever lives there took it down, fed up with people like me looking for that “dang marker”.
Finding this historic landmark took two days and another 40 miles on narrow, winding mountain roads, but I was so happy to see it, and even happier that my husband offered to drive me there – twice .
Because years ago he threw a fit when I wanted to take another detour. We had stopped at a park to pee the dog on the last leg of another road trip when I saw a short trail of historic Donner Party sites that I wanted to visit but my husband didn’t want to wait as I walk that extra mile.
In his defense, he had just spent the last two weeks driving us to Yellowstone National Park and driving through snow and explosive dog diarrhea, and he just wanted to get home. But that trail would only take another 15 minutes, I argued, and when would I be back there?
I ended up walking the trail that day, but my husband was not happy with it. So it was much cooler when he twice offered to try to find another historical site. Maybe he finally completely gave in to those scones?!