Yanks Survive KY -- no attacks reported. Part 3

On Monday morning we woke up to find that we were in Kentucky... it's this whole other state. I think we got going slowly that day. During the morning hours, David got out one of his four tubas and we played a few duets with me on piano. The boys may have played out in the backyard somewhat, and the rest of us got acclimated and tried to figure out what to do. Eventually we settled on the Kentucky Horse Park, not too far from our home base in Georgetown.

It was immense and well-kept. It included a museum, something akin to a show area, stables, and innumerable other outbuildings for specific purposes. It was pleasant, but honestly, out of everything we visited, I liked the horse park the least. There seemed to be comparatively few horses on campus compared to the vast number of stables and stalls. We did get a chance to talk to a few of the groom/jockey/caretaker people, but that was about all.

I believe it was that evening that, upon our return to the Bubba's boyhood home, I inspected the tires again and noticed a large screw driven unceremoniously into the center of the driver's side back tire. It was releasing air at a pretty impressive rate. For the second time in two days, I grabbed Bubba and we headed to some form of car repair center. This time it was Goodyear, just a few blocks from David and Susan's home. We were very thankful to God that we did not have to replace another tire; this one just needed a patch for $14.50 and we were good to go. I know Roy the mechanic made up for the money he didn't charge us, because he was working on some vehicles for Everett's parents at the same time. He didn't let them get off for just $14.50. I guess we just got the Yankee discount.

By this time I was pretty spooked about driving anywhere at any time, know that we had to get this vehicle back to Minnesota, and also knowing that there were only two tires left that had not been affected by sharp road-going objects. What's a driver to do?