This is one of my favorite memories of my father: Driving around Kenya with me at the wheel and Beau with his head stuck out of the roof. Poor Nora was in the backseat with all the luggage and the pile of sheepskin Beau had purchased at the side of the road. He thought it was a good idea to buy them in Kenya, for cheap, and take them all the way back to Florida where they could be made into car seat covers.
None of us factored in the idea that they hadn’t been cured. So after a long day in a hot car, the sheep skin began to stink to high heaven. Needless to say, the clerk at the prestigious Mount Kenya Safari Club was not amused when Beau brought them in for laundering.
He also couldn’t understand why we didn’t have a driver or a guide. I tried to explain that I WAS the driver and the guide. To make matters worse, Beau’s face was covered in red dirt–remember his head was sticking out of the Jeep–from the terrain we’d just traversed.
I am certain the Mount Kenya Safari Club has never forgotten the Bercaws. And this story is just one of many reasons I will never forget my father. He was game for anything.
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That story which of course I had heard before always makes me angry that I hadn’t met him sooner in my life…oh well, we would have gotten on well (as we did) but I would have been the one laughing heartily instead of him.