MYSTERY TRIP

Deborah Elliott-Upton

When we were kids, my parents often took us on Sunday drives. Back then no one worried about the cost of gasoline much and just driving around, cruising the city or countryside was a rather nice pastime. Dad enjoyed picking a different child each Sunday to be the “mystery guide.” Whoever won the guest selection would hide their eyes and be filled with anticipation at the adventure we were about to embark. Dad would drive to wherever he wanted, and then announce the guide had to direct us back home. He would turn right or left as we said and most times we made it home in not too long a time. I have a great sense of direction and can only deduce my time playing this game, whether as a participant or an observer (no one was allowed to hint any directions to the guide), led to my being able to find my way home.

As in any good story, the setting and weather also played a part in our game. We played more often in spring and summer and maybe that’s one of the reasons I enjoy those seasons more. Winter’s bad weather kept us inside more often and fall was fraught with being busy with getting back into the school mode, football games, and holiday get-togethers. Our city wasn’t all that large (still isn’t) but when I was a kid, it seemed like endless miles and directions to discover. Twists and turns. Wrong directions taken yet finding our way back on the right track. Wonderful “new to us” places within our town that reeked of history we had not yet learned and fabulous out-of-the-way spots to dine were added incentives to keep playing the game.

I think we stopped playing the game close to when we became teenagers. Gasoline costs were rising and our parents were more occupied with outside interests as we were at coming-of-age points in our life. Maybe our parents thought we’d tired of the Sunday afternoon drives and perhaps we even said that out loud. I think we secretly missed those drives, even if we had grown to an age when we didn’t relish spending all that much time with family and especially our parents.

In hindsight, those drives were one of my favorite childhood memories of our family.

This was when I gravitated toward spending more time alone and reading mysteries. Mickey Spillane became my buddy and Agatha Christie the one I wished I could talk to and ask the questions popping up in my mind. I longed to know someone who could show me the way my life should take. I needed direction, I thought. But, actually, I’d already been taught that I would be able to find my way if only I trusted my gut instinct and not be afraid to take a chance on making a wrong turn now and again.

There’s nothing like finding a good summer mystery to read. Whether lounging at the pool, sinking into a comfy chair, or reading on a plane or in the backseat of a car, there’s nothing like a good book to take you away to somewhere you have not yet been. You’ll find your way home soon enough. For now, enjoy the ride. The excitement is as much in the journey as it is in the destination, and sometimes there are the most delightful surprises along the way.