by Dan Gutman
“Are you out of your mind, Ben?” his wife asked.
“We’re going to see how fast this baby can go,” Dr. McDonald said calmly.
“Yeah, let’s do it, Dad!” urged Coke.
“This is insanity,” Pep said.
“It’s a recreational vehicle, Ben!” Mrs. McDonald said urgently. “An RV isn’t designed for racing.”
“Going fast is one of man’s most primal desires,” Dr. McDonald said, staring at the salt flat ahead of him. “This will be my only chance to ever do this. Fasten your seat belts.”
With that, he hit the gas pedal.
The wheels spun at first on the salt, but soon they got a grip and the RV lurched forward. They were all slammed backward into their seats.
“Ben, you’re going to damage the RV!” Mrs. McDonald yelled.
“It’s okay!” he shouted back. “It’s a rental!”
After a sluggish start, the RV started picking up speed. Fifty, sixty, seventy miles per hour. With nothing around for miles and miles, Dr. McDonald didn’t have to worry about roads, stop signs, guardrails, traffic lights, pedestrians, or police cars. He pressed the gas pedal hard against the floor.
“I’ve wanted to do this my whole life!” he yelled.
Eighty . . . ninety . . . one hundred miles per hour. It was bumpy. Everything was vibrating. The plates in the little kitchen were rattling.
“Woo-hooooooooooo!” Coke shouted. “Put the pedal to the metal, Dad! Burn rubber!”
“Slow down, Dad!” Pep said, gripping the armrests tightly.
“That’s enough, Ben!” Mrs. McDonald shouted. “You proved your point. We get it! It goes fast!”
But it wasn’t enough. The RV was still accelerating as the speedometer needle nosed past 110 miles per hour.
That’s when Coke saw something in front of them. It was just a dot on the horizon at first; but as they got closer, it appeared to be a person. No, two people. They were waving their hands frantically.
“Somebody’s out there, Dad!” Pep hollered, pointing.
“Hit the brakes!” ordered Mrs. McDonald.
“Steer around them!” shouted Coke.
Dr. McDonald took both suggestions, which sent the RV into a long skid and nearly caused it to flip over. Some of the cabinet doors flew open. Pots and pans came flying out and rattled against the floor.
The two people on the salt flat dove out of the way. The RV came within inches of mowing them down.
“That was cool, Dad!” Coke shouted when the RV had screeched to a halt. They all took a deep breath and then unfastened their seat belts and jumped out to see who was crazy enough to be running around in the middle of the Bonneville Salt Flats without a car.
The two people were lying on the ground. One was a man and the other was a woman. Their clothes were ripped and ragged.
It took a moment, but once the twins got a good look at the faces, they realized they had seen these people before.
It was Bones and Mya!
“What are you doing out here?” Pep hollered.
“Water . . . water . . . ,” they begged.
Bones and Mya could barely speak; their throats were too dry and sore. They were barely alive.
“Do you know these people?” Mrs. McDonald asked Pep.
“No!” Pep lied. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“Well, you just said ‘What are you doing out here?’” Mrs. McDonald explained. “That sounds like you’re talking to somebody you’ve met before.”
“No, no, Mom,” Coke explained. “She didn’t say ‘What are you doing out here?’ She said ‘What are you doing out here?’ There’s a big difference. It all depends on which word you emphasize, you see.”
“I never met these people in my life,” Pep lied.
She had to. She had been sworn to secrecy.
Dr. McDonald poured water over Bones’s and Mya’s faces. Mrs. McDonald helped them up and brought them into the RV, where it was shady and air-conditioned. Bones put a finger to his lips to let the twins know not to tell their parents who they were.
Mrs. McDonald made them some instant oatmeal. After Dr. McDonald checked out the tires to make sure they weren’t damaged by their little sprint, he tried to get Bones and Mya to explain why they were wandering around the Bonneville Salt Flats with no food or water. They pretended that it was too painful to speak and just pantomimed that they would be okay.
“We’ll take you to the nearest gas station,” Dr. McDonald finally said.
“Thank you,” Mya croaked, looking up from the oatmeal.
In the back of the RV, Pep took out her notepad. She made a big question mark on it and handed it to Bones for him to write a reply.
SHE TRIED 2 KILL US
Who?
HIGGINS.
My health teacher??? She’s alive?
YES. KIDNAPPED US. DROVE US OUT THERE. LEFT US 2 DIE.
U OK?
DON’T WORRY. MEET U AT BALL OF TWINE. GO THERE. IMPORTANT!
Dr. McDonald pulled into a gas station and insisted on giving twenty dollars to Bones and Mya before they got out of the RV. They thanked him repeatedly and wrote down his address so they could repay the money when they could.
Go to Google Maps (http://maps.google.com/).
Click Get Directions.
In the A box, type Wendover UT.
In the B box, type Evanston WY.
Click Get Directions.
As the RV pulled away, Coke and Pep waved to Bones and Mya out the back window and wondered how they would ever get to Kansas.
After that morning excitement, the rest of the day seemed to go by in a blur. They passed the southern part of Great Salt Lake, which is the largest salt lake in the western hemisphere. It’s three to five times as salty as the ocean. Just about anybody can float in it.
“Think it’s possible to drown in there?” Pep wondered out loud.
“Sure,” Coke replied. “If somebody holds your head under the water long enough.”
Legend has it that there’s a monster in Great Salt Lake with a body like a crocodile and a horse‘s head. Mrs. McDonald said she’d like to take a look and write about it for Amazing but True. But everyone agreed that they had enough salt for the day and decided to press on.
In Salt Lake City, behind the State Capitol, there is what is called a “gravity hill.” According to the locals, a guy named Emo was buried in the area. At midnight, his grave gives off a blue glow and his ghost warps gravity so that cars parked at the bottom of the gravity hill will roll uphill. Mrs. McDonald insisted they try it, but it didn’t work. Maybe it does with a Mini Cooper or Smart Car, but not with an RV.
Then Mrs. McDonald wanted to drive three hours north of Salt Lake City to Blackfoot, Idaho—the Potato Capital of the World. They have the world’s largest potato there (made of Styrofoam) and also the world’s largest potato chip (about the size of a pizza). But the rest of the family voted against it, even if it meant they would not be able to sample the potato fudge or potato ice cream, which is sold in the gift shop.
It was still early in the day, so Dr. McDonald decided to see how many miles he could cover. A little over an hour from Salt Lake City, everybody whooped and hollered when they saw the sign that read . . .
“Did you know that Wyoming has the fewest people of any state?” Coke asked.
“Thank you, Mr. Know-It-All,” his sister replied. “How much longer to the largest ball of twine in the world?”
“Seven hundred and eighty-five miles to Cawker City,” replied Mrs. McDonald.
“Floor it, Dad!” Coke yelled. “Just like you did at the Bonneville Salt Flats.”
“I don’t think so,” Dr. McDonald said. But he pushed the gas pedal down just a little harder, bumping the needle on the speedometer just past seventy miles per hour.
Go to Google Maps (http://maps.google.com/).
Click Get Directions.
In the A box, type Evanston WY.
In the B box, type
Cheyenne WY.
Click Get Directions.
Everybody wanted to get to the largest ball of twine in Cawker City, Kansas, as quickly as possible for their own reasons. Coke and Pep wanted to get there because they had been assigned to stop an attack there. Mrs. McDonald wanted to get there to gather information for Amazing but True. And Dr. McDonald wanted to get there because, well, he could get it over with. Once he saw the stupid ball of twine, he reasoned, nobody would ever ask him to go there again.
But first they had to get through Wyoming and a good part of Nebraska.
Dr. McDonald was tired from driving, but he refused to let Mrs. McDonald take over the wheel. Maybe it was sexist, but he felt that driving was his job. And besides, his wife was a terrible driver. One time she set out for a trip to San Diego and wound up in Fresno.
I-80 runs nearly four hundred miles across the bottom of Wyoming. Mrs. McDonald calculated that they could do it in less than six hours without stopping.
That would mean no side trip to Vernal, Utah, which calls itself the Dinosaur Capital of the World. Mrs. McDonald would not be able to buy petrified dino poop souvenirs in the gift shops there.
That would mean no side trip to Estes Park, Colorado, where the key to Hitler’s bomb shelter is on display. Perfect Amazing but True material.
They would have to miss seeing the giant sculpture of Abraham Lincoln’s head in Laramie, Wyoming.
They would have to skip Chimney Rock, a rock that doesn’t even look like a chimney, anyway.
Halfway across the state, they passed a sign that read CONTINENTAL DIVIDE.
“Did you know that rivers west of this spot flow into the Pacific Ocean?” Coke asked. “And rivers east of here empty into the Atlantic.”
“Nobody cares, Smarty-Pants,” Pep told him.
There was still a long way to go before they would see the largest ball of twine in the world. They would have to endure the spectacular forests, wildflowers, and roaring rivers of Wyoming. The bighorn sheep lumbering alongside the highway and the golden eagles circling overhead.
Eventually the Rockies flattened out and gave way to the Great Plains on the eastern part of the state. And finally, after four hundred miles and five and a half hours of driving across the largest rectangle in the world, they spotted a sign that read . . .
Chapter 17
An Extremely Large Ball of Twine
“I bet you guys can’t name three things invented in Nebraska,” Coke asked the family.
“No, but I’m sure you can,” his sister replied.
“Kool-Aid, CliffsNotes, and Eskimo Pies!” Coke proclaimed.
“Ugh,” Pep groaned.
“How can you possibly know that?” Mrs. McDonald asked.
“No clue,” Coke replied. “Stuff just sticks in my head. I can’t help it.”
Mrs. McDonald took secret delight in the fact that Coke seemed to take after her. Maybe, she thought, after she retired from writing Amazing but True, Coke might take it over. They both seemed to have a love for useless information.
Dr. McDonald didn’t even hear what Coke had said. He was so tired from driving at this point that he could barely stay awake. He decided not to search for a campground to spend the night. He pulled off I-80 at the first exit, headed for the first pair of golden arches he could find, and parked in the corner of the McDonald’s lot.
He figured it was probably illegal to leave an RV overnight at a fast-food restaurant, but he did it, anyway. It’s smarter to pay for a parking ticket than to fall asleep behind the wheel at seventy miles per hour.
Go to Google Maps (http://maps.google.com/).
Click Get Directions.
In the A box, type Kimball NE.
In the B box, type Cawker City KS.
Click Get Directions.
The sleep did everyone good, and there was no ticket on the windshield in the morning. As a way of saying thank you, it was Egg McMuffins for everybody.
Mrs. McDonald took out her laptop and plotted the route to Cawker City, Kansas, home of the largest ball of twine in the world. It would be almost six hours of straight driving, she figured. When breakfast was done and the RV was gassed up, they were back on I-80.
“Any of you guys ever heard of Carhenge?” Mrs. McDonald asked, looking in her Nebraska guidebook.
“It’s a replica of Stonehenge but with cars,” Coke said, recalling a magazine article he’d seen while he and his mom were getting an oil change at Jiffy Lube. “Some guy half buried a bunch of old cars on his farm and welded them together to look like Stonehenge in England.”
“How do you remember stuff like that?” Pep asked, incredulous.
“It’s not that I remember so much,” Coke replied. “It’s that you remember so little.”
“Where is this Carhenge?” Dr. McDonald asked.
“Two hours north and east of here,” Mrs. McDonald replied, “in Alliance, Nebraska.”
Dr. McDonald thought it over. They could stay on course and make it to the largest ball of twine in the world by late afternoon, or they could drive two hours out of their way to see a bunch of cars stuck in the dirt. It was a tough decision.
“Tell you what,” he said. “Next summer we’ll go to England, and I’ll take you to the real Stonehenge.”
“Deal!” everyone agreed.
They continued along I-80, passing the small towns of Big Springs, Roscoe, and Paxton. They stopped for lunch in North Platte, home of the Fort Cody Trading Post, one of the largest souvenir shops in America. Standing outside was a gigantic Buffalo Bill, and inside there was a two-headed calf in a display case and a giant fiberglass buffalo. Anyone who can drive by that without stopping for a look has no sense of adventure.
It would be another 213 miles to Cawker City. But they were getting close now. Dr. McDonald pushed the gas pedal a little harder. The vast grasslands and treeless plains passing by made it seem as if the RV was moving in slow motion.
Near Elm Creek, Nebraska, Dr. McDonald pulled off the highway to head south on Route 183.
“Something tells me we’re in Kansas,” Coke said suddenly.
“What tells you?” asked Pep.
“That tells me!”
Then everybody saw the sign in the distance that read . . .
Hooting, hollering, and cheering erupted from the RV as they crossed the state line.
“Did you know that the state song of Kansas is ‘Home on the Range’?” Coke announced.
“Big deal,” Pep replied. “Ball of twine, here we come!”
The road was more narrow and gentler. Dr. McDonald eased off the gas to slow down and take in the scenery. They were in the country now, passing farms and churches, houses, and ball fields.
“This is the real America,” Dr. McDonald said, glancing from side to side as he drove. “The America you don’t see on TV.”
Everyone was anxious to get to Cawker City, but they couldn’t help but enjoy the view. It was so different from their home near San Francisco. Rolling hills. Endless fields of corn and wheat pastures. Grazing cows. Every few miles another small town. Phillipsburg . . . Kensington . . . Smith Center . . . Lebanon . . .
“Stop, Ben!” Mrs. McDonald suddenly yelled.
Dr. McDonald mashed on the brake, thinking he must have hit an animal or something. The RV screeched to a halt. At the side of the road there was a small chapel, a picnic table, and this . . .
Nearby was a stone marker announcing that this exact spot was the geographic middle of the continental United States, as determined by a government survey done around 1898.
They all got out of the RV to stretch their legs and check things out. An old man rode by on a wobbly bicycle.
“Excuse me,” Mrs. McDonald asked the man. “Is this really the geographic center of the United States?”
“Yup,” the man said without stopping.
“But that doesn’t include Alaska and Hawaii, does it?” asked Coke.
“Nope.”
“Does it account for the cur
vature of the earth?” asked Dr. McDonald.
“Don’t rightly know,” the man replied, and he continued pedaling on his way.
“Think of it,” Mrs. McDonald said, snapping a photo of the marker. “We’re standing at the exact midpoint of the continental United States.”
“Great,” Coke said. “Let’s blow this pop stand.”
So they did. Standing at the exact geographic center of the United States was, admittedly, interesting. But it was hard to get excited about it when they were so close to the largest ball of twine in the world.
When they got back on the road and saw a sign that said CAWKER CITY 25 MILES, they could almost taste it. The McDonalds had driven about 1,600 miles by this time. They had traveled more than halfway across the country. And finally they were within shouting distance of Cawker City.
“This had better be worth it,” Dr. McDonald mumbled as they passed some cows grazing at the side of the road.
It wasn’t long before they could see a water tower in the distance, and soon the words on it could be read—CAWKER CITY. The cornfields gave way to a cute little town. It was neighborhoody. A barbershop here, a luncheonette there. And then the big sign . . .
“Woo-hoo!” Coke hollered. “We made it!”
As they drove along Wisconsin Street into the downtown area, they all leaned forward in their seats, each hoping to be the first to see the ball of twine. It shouldn’t be hard to spot, they figured. Anything that is the largest of its kind in the world shouldn’t be hard to spot.
Dr. McDonald found a parking space big enough for the RV, so he grabbed it. They could walk the rest of the way.
“Be careful,” Pep warned her brother as they climbed out of the RV. “Something is gonna go down here. It’s our job to stop it.”
She took the backpack just in case she had to hit somebody with a yo-yo, or gouge their eyes out with her Pez dispenser.
The people of Cawker City aren’t ashamed of living in the home of the largest ball of twine in the world. Just the opposite. They’re proud of it. The sidewalks are painted with twine so visitors can take the Masterpiece Twine Walk to see paintings in storefront windows that have images of twine hidden in them. Kids compete to find them all.