Attribute to L. Neil Smith’s The Libertarian Enterprise

For some reason, this memory of long ago came back to me.

We were going to a family reunion in Medford, Wisconsin, which is right about in the middle of the state. It was the German side of the family, and a fair number of them were still farmers. We all decided to meet in the Minneapolis airport, and then drive a rented car across to Medford. It ended up that it was me, my wife, my mother, and some subset of my sisters (I have 5 of them). I don’t recall who, exactly, but the car was pretty full up.

We didn’t have a lot of money so we went with “Rent-A-Wreck”. Yes, there really was a company by that name. The car was some older, larger coupe, like a Monte Carlo. Unfortunately on that hot summer day, the air conditioning didn’t work, so we drove with the windows down. I was the driver.

Wisconsin is pretty flat, and in the farmland part there are (now paved) roads every mile, causing a sort of checkerboard effect—unlike most states in the west, where the road builders have to take mountains into consideration. But there are interruptions, caused by various water features and so forth, so some navigation is still needed on these minor roads to get around. I think I had 2 or 3 navigators in the car, giving me conflicting instructions. This got me a bit annoyed…

Then, coming around a corner, so I had no way to avoid it, I hit a large pile of wet cow shit that had probably fallen off a farmer’s manure spreader. I still remember the sound—quiet, then “flap-flap-flap” as the tires flung the wet mess, liberally spraying all four wheel wells with the muck. Then the smell hit us and all the women in the car said in unison, “Eeeeuuuuwwwwww!”

Well, there was nothing to be done but continue on, despite the smell.

The next fun thing was when I rolled through a stop sign; a cop saw me and pulled me over. There were no other cars around, it was not dangerous, but I guess his town needed a contribution, so… Anyway he walks up to the car, first observing the “Rent-A-Wreck” bumper sticker, then wrinkling his nose at the smell wafting up from the wheel wells on that hot day. As I handed my license to him, every woman in that car decided she had just right the argument or plea to talk him out of giving me a ticket, and simultaneously started expressing it. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

This went on for 30 seconds or so. I had been getting more and more steamed up, and this finally did it for me. Using my best imitation drill instructor voice, I shouted one word at full volume: “QUIET!” Amazingly enough, a shocked silence instantly ensued.

I had been ready to just accept the citation from the cop without trying to talk my way out of it (not my style); but the cop, observing all this, just shook his head, handed my paperwork back over, and told me to carry on, walking back to his car. I guess he figured I had had enough grief already.

The reunion turned out to be more normal, although I do have some aunts on that side of the family who are… different