Bus-ted

Ethan had an away soccer game last night. It was the team's fifth straight shutout, so when the bus stopped at Burger King on the way back, the defense got to get off and order first. Ethan plays defense.

But that's not the story here.

Ethan called from the road. He does that so he can get prompt pickup service when the bus reaches the junior high.

"Where are you now?" I said.

"Where are we?" Ethan asked of the bus at large. "What, Skip?" I heard. The answer was coming by way of Ethan's friend Justin Skipper. "Huntingdon," Ethan said.

Okay, that meant about twenty-five minutes. About twenty minutes later, I drove down and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

After about half an hour, still no bus. Accident? Or ...

I went home, figuring that Ethan would call again.

A few minutes later, he walked in the door.

"Skip's dad dropped me off," he said. "When I called, we were actually in Clearfield." About thirty miles farther out than Huntingdon.

The list of navigators who I trust just got shorter.

Ethan and Skip, Ya Goofs!

Image scarfed from clearfield-county.com.