Let the Father beware

For the first time in a very long time, we spent Thanksgiving away from home. 

I don't know about you but I dread the travel associated with holidays. I prefer the comforts of my own home, like running out of underwear but having the wherewithal to wrap a towel around my now-shrinking waistline, and throwing a new load in the washer while the Detroit Lions continue their Thanklessgiving Day tradition of losing.

Fortunately this year's travel did not necessitate a heart-stopping visit to LAX. Instead, we traveled to nearby Joshua Tree via the friendly freeways of Los Angeles. The 2 hour drive on a Wednesday afternoon only took a tad bit over 5 hours. 

Nevertheless it was well worth it. 

If you haven't been to Joshua Tree, and you appreciate the desert, as half my ancestors did some three thousand years ago, by all means go. Just not on the Wednesday, Brake Light Wednesday, before Thanksgiving. Here's a preview...

I included the shot of the billboard featuring some of the local businesses in Joshua Tree as a means of transition to the topic of commerce.

You see, after a moderately challenging hike to the 49 Palms Canyon, my daughters wanted to spend a day thrifting -- the abbreviated, conjugated verb of thrift shop shopping. That gave my brother and I more time to consume beer, watch football and renew our 60 plus year of sibling rivalry on the Cornhole court.

When the girls returned, Rachel told me she had filled up the car with fuel. How thoughtful and sweet, I said to myself, shamefully thinking I don't give my girls enough credit. 

The filling up of the gas tank came with its own little story.

"There was only one gas station nearby and we didn't want to get stranded, this being way out here in the high desert. But the gas station had this yellow tape wrapped around the two pumps. The only thing they had left was the green nozzle. I think the green means its eco-friendly. So I filled up the tank with that. Plus, it was cheaper."

I put down my beer which was no longer cold and quickly gaining heat from the blood boiling throughout my body. I took a deep breath (per my therapist's suggestion) and worked mightily to control the lava-like words that were about to shoot from my mouth.

"You filled up the car with DIESEL!"

At this point, my mind went blank. Green is diesel right? Eco-friendly fuel? How did she she drive back here? I was ready to explode. But before I did, Rachel, and Abby, who was surreptitiously filming me on her iPhone the entire time, burst out laughing.

Moments later, I was to find out that this little scenario is a meme floating around Tik Tok. Unless it has to do with our former president (I still can't believe that schmuck was in our White House) I'm always late to contemporary social media culture. But apparently the "Tell Your Dad You Put Diesel In The Car and Film His Reaction" schtick is very popular.

Who knows, by now, my daughter who helped make Cheugy a household phrase, may be trending on Tik Tok with her redfaced dad.

Pretty funny, I told my girls, but I'm no stranger to the well-played prank. 

No stranger at all.