You’ve Got to Know When to Hold Them, Know When to Fold Them

Hubert wasn’t a bachelor farmer.

Hubert was a bachelor physical education teacher.

He’d never married. He was too busy watching “Wheel of Fortune,” which always made him feel smarter than the contestants.

He surprised everyone when, at age 59, he married a woman nearly 20 years his junior.

A year into the marriage, Hubert bought an old motorhome held together by hopes and barbed wire. He drove around town a few times to get the feel of the vehicle before he was ready to tackle the road.

Hubert and his wife planned a trip to Texas to visit her oldest brother and his family. Her brother had a herd of kids, and Hubert’s wife wanted to get an accurate count. They were going in the summer when it’d be hot, but he couldn’t get away from his jobs of teaching and coaching cross country and track. They loaded the motorhome with a few necessities and everything they didn’t need before leaving early in the morning, planning to avoid the major highways as much as possible so they might see the real America. He’d been so excited, his sleep had been abbreviated. They got an early start, and he drove all morning before stopping at a restaurant with ample parking.

After eating, Hubert slid behind the steering wheel while his wife visited the restaurant’s restroom. When his wife entered the motorhome, she said he looked tired and encouraged him to climb into bed and take a nap while she drove.

Hubert knew her driving skills were as good as his, if not better. He readily accepted the advice and moved to the back, stripped to his undershorts, and crawled into bed.

When he awakened, the vehicle was stopped. He rose from the bed, opened the back door and looked around.

His wife had stopped at a small city’s only red light. The light changed and she gave the vehicle gas. When the motorhome lurched forward, Hubert was pitched out the back door.

He shoulda stayed awake, but shoulda is a crooked and bumpy road. Hubert didn’t suffer any injuries on his tumble other than a scraped elbow and two skinned knees, but found himself in a strange city dressed only in his boxers. He yelled, but his wife didn’t hear him or stop the camper. He wanted back in that RV as much as he wanted his next breath. Yelling while in your underwear while running down a street attracts attention. A squad car pulled alongside, the police officer assuming he’d found an inebriate. Hubert explained what happened, and the officer found Hubert to be sober and not ill-intentioned. The policeman cleverly concealed his concern with cackles and chortles, and offered Hubert a seat. With lights flashing, the car took off in pursuit of the motorhome.

When they caught up to it, his wife looked over from the driver’s seat to see her nearly naked husband, who should have been sleeping in the back, in a patrol car. She slammed on the brakes and bumped into a deer crossing sign.

Once Hubert had gotten dressed, the couple agreed to treat the officer to pie and ice cream at a nearby cafe. It was mighty good.

When Hubert got up to pay the check, his wife told him he’d neglected to zip up his fly. His barn door was open. That shouldn’t have bothered a man who’d been running nearly naked down a street, but it did. He sat back down and zipped up quickly. When he stood up to walk away, Hubert discovered the tablecloth had become caught in his zipper. Dishes, silverware and his dignity crashed to the floor.

Hubert paid the check and tossed in a little extra to pay for any damage. The policeman thanked Hubert for giving him a memorable day and said he’d be getting a bill for the damaged highway sign.

It had become apparent there was no pot of gold at the end of that trip’s rainbow. Hubert and his wife decided to drive home.

If her brother wanted to see them, he knew where they lived.

The return trip began with the RV’s radio playing Kenny Rogers singing, “You’ve got to know when to hold them, know when to fold them.”