found drama

We’re headed out into the country on a drive; the idea is to find this obscure camping site.  We have directions but they are vague and the roads do not match up with them and many of the landmarks are missing and many of the street signs are covered with mud.  David Sedaris is at the wheel, I ride shotgun; in the back is a couple, the woman is hugely pregnant.  The roads are bumpy and muddy and they wind around and up and down rolling hills.  Sometimes we pass a farm.  The woman complains of pains; D.S. drives on, certain that we are nearing the turn-off.  We pass what might be the road but drive past it, afraid to turn down.  The road is extremely narrow — scarcely wide enough for our one car — and very muddy.  As it pulls away from the main road, it appears the the narrow ride rises up, meaning a fall not only puts us in the ditch but could plummet us down twenty feet or more.  In the back seat, the woman gives birth.  The child is still in the caul and D.S. says he knows what to do as he backs the car up and turns down the muddy road ascending into the forest.

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