Dirt roads, alfalfa ice cream and garbage transfer

I've noticed something about South Center Valley Road, and it's not so pretty. This morning while taking a quick stroll before grabbing the papers, I spotted three pieces of scrub lumber scattered along the road's edge. This past week I've picked up two beverage cans and a fruit juice container---the kind with the little hole for straw sipping---all from our yard which borders the road. One day someone lost a complete North Idaho Sunday from their load, and ya know how much ground that can cover!

Long before moving here, I knew from personal experience that our country road serves as the back way to the Colburn Transfer Station and Mall. We've taken the route lots of times from our home on Great Northern Road, especially when we've had a load of unruly garbage in the pickup bed. We'd go down North Boyer, then down North North Boyer, then turn right toward Selle Road, cross the highway, proceed down Selle Road two miles and turn at the South Center Valley sign, where the Center Valley 3-Road complex begins.

From there, dump-bound drivers turn right on Center Valley Road, and then hang a left on North Center Valley Road. Where Colburn-Culver intersects, then it's just a left turn and another mile to the dump which is one of Bonner County's most fun tourist stops for people watching, cast-away shopping and free doggie biscuits for the pooch.

Since moving here, we've detected the problem that goes along with taking the back way to the dump: lots of folks' garbage just doesn't make it there. Lots of garbage flies off the back end of pickups and homemade trailers and lands on our road, much like my bale of second cutting alfalfa did last Sunday when I did NOT take the back way home with my load.

I did not see the bale bail while driving down HWY 95 north of the Bronx Road. Instead, a frenzied lady in the left lane next to me tried sign language to let me know I'd lost something. I looked in the rear view mirror, cussed, gradually slowed down, looked again to see if the bale was scattered all over the highway. I saw no bale on the top of my load, and I saw no bale on the pavement behind me.

Knowing I'd cut a ridiculous sight back there in the midst of traffic zipping around me while gathering up flakes of alfalfa and knowing full well that the Meadow Gold French vanilla ice cream I'd purchased at Yoke's may melt and seep out over the highway to cause an even bigger mess (imagine the flavor of Meadow Gold alfalfa flake), I just kept on driving north, at a slow pace, but definitely creating distance between me and the presumed alfalfa disaster.

I needed Bill to help me out of this fix, and, more importantly I needed that precious ice cream in the freezer before going back to see the extent of the traffic hazard I'd caused along the highway. Besides, only the frenzied woman with the sign language knew the description of me and my pickup load of 15 bales of hay.

Howard, our former neighbor and horse boarder, had insisted on putting that extra 16th bale on top because he doesn't like working with odd numbers. As I pulled away from his place, he even asked if he could put a couple more on top to make a prettier load. I thanked him but declined, eager to get on my way to the store and then home.

Well, now I was driving home, with ice cream bound to melt, an odd number of hay bales on my load and a potential 10-car pile-up behind me. I prayed a lot, kept a close watch on my rear view mirror for Idaho State cops in hot pursuit down Selle Road, and just kept driving steadily toward the back road to the county dump. I felt great relief at turning off because any cops chasing me would be halfway to Northside School before they realized I was long gone.

I pulled into the driveway and took care of first things first. The ice cream went directly to the freezer. Bill was seated at the table munching on a Schwan's chicken strip; his twin sister sat in the living room reading and waiting to dine on her chicken strips.

"I may have a major problem," I announced. Bill shot me that "now what?" look of so many times before while gulping down a bite of chicken." I lost a bale of alfalfa on the highway, and I don't know where it is. It could be all over the road, but I couldn't see it when the lady motioned me so I just kept on driving. Can you come with me to pick it up?"

Bill wanted to finish his chicken, so I didn't complain. After all, when HE was going to have to endure the embarrassment of going down that highway and knowing that his wife caused the 10-car pile-up or, at the very least, having to scoop up alfalfa flakes in the midst of zipping cars, I knew I'd better be nice to him. Beggars can't be choosers in situations like this.

He finished the chicken, we headed out the driveway, and I rationalized out loud all the way to the highway that I'd done the "right thing" by coming to get him to help. He said nothing and just kept driving. We turned on to the highway and drove to said spot where said woman had motioned me. There was no sign of hay. We saw no cop cars nor wreckers with lights flashing. We drove on.

A mile later, with no sign of hay, I started deducing that maybe the bale fell off in the Yoke's parking lot. That wouldn't be so bad, I thought. They'd just get the bag boys to scoop it up and stick it in the back room. That thought complete, I looked over to the left and saw it.

The 16th bale that had soothed Howard's obsessive-compulsive disorder for even numbers had happily soothed my paranoic-anxiety-guilt disorder. It had behaved. The alfalfa bale had bailed beautifully. I'm sure Bill let out a quiet sigh of relief as he too saw the bale, off the highway, intact, just sitting there in the sunshine waiting to be retrieved.

And, so, we did our duty. Like good citizens intent on keeping this earth clean, we went back to the scene. We picked up what we had lost, and we hauled it to its proper spot. The bale now sits among its counterparts in the barn, making an even count, making Howard happy, making me happy and saving the world from roadside eyesores.

Now, if those folks who come out our beautiful country road to avoid losing their garbage along the highway would follow our example and do the same, we could all be happy.

They just need to remember to purchase the ice cream AFTER hauling the goods.