Rest and Be Thankful

Wednesday, December 12, "New Year's Eve"

Cam stuffed his rucksack in the trunk of the ancient Volvo station wagon, then glanced at the sky, which was covered with large clouds.The weather forecast on the radio predicts snow tonight.Cam was skeptical at the time, but he didn't like the dark clouds in front of him.Now it's time to go.Despite being less than two hours away from Glasgow, the Volvo has been throwing a tantrum of late and Cam isn't sure it can handle the snow.

He would never risk missing tonight.He needs tonight.He hadn't thought much of anything else for the past two days.He hadn't had a good time in Glasgow for ten months.Haven't gotten drunk or danced in ten months.Didn't sleep with anyone else either.

Even more exciting than going to bed is—letting go of the thought.Let others call the shots, even for a little while.He was a little dizzy thinking about months of isolation and tension.

Just as he was about to close the trunk, he suddenly remembered that there was still a bottle of champagne left in the refrigerator.It was a present from his parents when he first moved to Inver Beach ten months ago.

"Keep it open until something to celebrate," his mother had said.

Somehow, the right occasion never came - until now anyway.Tonight he will celebrate being able to leave Inver Beach briefly for a few days.He was going to pretend he had never left Glasgow, that he hadn't made the mistakes he'd made in the past ten months.

After making up his mind, Cam strode back to the hut, took out the key from his pocket and opened the door.

Just stepping into the house made his mood sour.Lately, he's come to hate this place, but it's sad to think of the many wonderful summers he spent here as a child that made him decide to start his career here.

In the past, the cramped environment and old furniture were also a kind of fun, but now, he hates the shabby sofa and the clunky old TV.Hate that little tiled dining table in the corner of the living room - who the fuck would tile a table? — and chairs that couldn’t be smaller at the table.Worse still was the shoebox kitchen, with only one electric stove for cooking.There is no oven.God, he can't buy frozen pizza to comfort himself.

Everything in the cabin was old and broken, just like his life.The boiler is just the latest thing to go bad.

Stamping through the kitchen, Cam opened the refrigerator door and rescued the stash of champagne from behind a half-can of mayonnaise and cream cheese that had been sitting for a long time, which was probably only moldy.He clamped the bottle under his arm, and strode away again. When the door locked behind him, he felt relieved.

Ruthlessly brushing aside the fact that he was coming back in a few days, he diverted his attention to securing the bottle of bubbly in the ankle braces that came with his hiking boots to keep it from rolling around. , then closed the trunk door and returned to the driving seat.

He held his breath, turned the ignition, and waited for the engine to come to life—and it did, the little beauty.Not broken to the point of no cure.

He smiled, reached out to pull down the seat belt, buckled it into the groove under the seat with one hand, and turned the steering wheel to get on the road.He was off, off to Glasgow for a long night of debauchery.

He could taste the first sip of wine in his mouth.

By the time he got to Adginglass, he knew the Volvo wasn't happy.Even so, he continued to drive, coaxing the car to continue walking inch by inch along the long winding road.A high point on the road is a signpost that reads "Rest and Give Gratitude" - or "Resting Place" as the locals call it - where travelers used to rest their horses after a steep climb one time.Now is also the time to pause, snap a photo, and get some chips from the snack cart in the parking lot.

①Restandbethankful, which is the original title of this article, is a famous landmark of Crow Canyon.

Every time Cam shifted gears, there was an ominous scrape that made him wince.He tried to depress the clutch lightly, and moved the gear lever gently and carefully, but every time he shifted, the noise became worse, and Cam's nerves became more and more tense.

"You're taking me to Glasgow the hell at least," he muttered under his breath as he made a generally sharp turn. "I don't care if you die wherever you go, as long as you get there."

He was driving uphill, and the slow climb was excruciating.To his left, the hillside rose high, and ahead, the narrow mountain road spread out like a ribbon.The itinerary is slow, but it's a "shortcut" to Glasgow.Otherwise, the road through Auburn will take longer.

Cam has driven this road several times in his life.When he was little, his mother inherited a fortune from his grandmother, enough to buy a cottage.Since then, they have gone on holidays to Argyll every time.The cabin was a bargain even then, thanks to its dilapidated condition and oddly placed wiring.

Omg, all that childhood journey.He, Ellie, and Rose sat in the back of the car singing, playing games, and fighting, and the back seat was filled with supermarket bags, piles of board games, tennis rackets, and sleeping bags.Everything they need in the summer is here for the kids to love to do.

The McMorrows come to Argyll each summer to "get away from the hustle and bustle", which is exactly what they do.The kids put their homework to the back of their minds, and so did their dad, a geography teacher, from school.As for Mom, she stopped nagging them to keep the uniforms clean and the house tidy.All the frivolous things like going to bed early on school days and doing chores are left at home.

When Cam decided to start his career here, he had some hazy idea that he would catch that feeling again—the feeling of simplicity.Now he realizes that the excitement of being here isn't that the worries or responsibilities at home are gone, they're just being put on hold a few miles away.Troubles and responsibilities still awaited his parents in Glasgow.

Cam's troubles haven't escaped her move to Inver Beach - they've always been with her.Now, ironically, he finds himself driving back to Glasgow to escape, the closer he gets to his hometown, the easier it is for him.

He was at the resting place in a moment, after which he could drive downhill to Arrochar.From Arrochar, you can come to the A82 national road in minutes.If it doesn't snow, you can drive back to Glasgow in the blink of an eye.

But can it really not snow?

Cam glanced skyward.Already dark clouds overwhelmed the top, obscuring the last gleam of the faint winter sun, bringing a purple-gray dusk.In the strange dim light, the colors of the landscape became strangely intense—vast deep, vivid greens on the hillsides, drooping rust-red bracken, silver-gray roads winding through the canyons.

Even if he is eager to return now, the scenery in front of him still makes Cam hold his breath.

But the pain he felt while looking at the rolling mountains was far from the simple joy of driving the road and dreaming of living here.Now he finds himself wondering if, in choosing Inver Beach as the location for his business, he's unknowingly betting on the very thing he's least willing to risk — the love for the place and the simple simplicity it brings. hapiness.

Damn—he's thinking about business again, he's already made up his mind to empty his mind.

Cam firmly pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, forcing himself to start dreaming of a night of carousing, champagne and cocktails in Ellie and Katie's tiny mall apartment, followed by a trip to Gomorrah before hitting the clubs. Grab a few drinks at a tavern down the road.He even looked forward to queuing into Gomorrah, sharing that eerie sense of anticipation with the other revelers as they waited to get inside, the pounding of the drums every time the bouncers opened the doors to let people in and out.

He couldn't help wanting to dance.Want to dance wildly on a dance floor packed with hot, sweaty flesh.If you want to boldly stare at other men, you can invite them to go further with just a look.Wanting to tear off his expensive shirt, tuck it in his back pocket, and show his chest, not being vain but knowing: no one has a better body than him.

The kind of rapid, unbridled excitement that seduces people.

The excitement of scoring goals.

Submitting yourself to others - giving up all control.

There hasn't been a night like this in the fucking year I've been away?

God, he must be drunk tonight.After a year of quiet weekends, another hangover can be terrifying, but it's worth it.

The last small slope before the rest point loomed in front of us.Cam slipped into second gear and approached slowly, frowning at the sound of the clutch scraping.The car started to climb uphill and the noise died down, which eased his anxiety a bit, but when he reached the level ground he turned a corner and had to slam the Volvo on the brakes.

"Depend on."

The ground was strewn with rocks, paved the entire length of the way and rising several feet high.Cam realized that the rocks, dirt, and chunks of vegetation on the ground had all rolled down the hillside.

It's a landslide.

It was a well-known occurrence near rest points, but it was a first for Cam.It must have just happened, because the road was still open and there were no glowing, perfunctory official traffic cones surrounding the scene.

Cam parked the Volvo a few feet away from the debris.He stared out the windshield at the stone river illuminated by his headlights, wondering if it was possible for him to drive past these sharp stone teeth, but then dismissed the absurd idea.

"Fuck it." He cursed loudly in the eerie silence.

Unfastening his seat belt, Cam got out of the car, slammed the door, and pulled up his well-worn North Face jacket against the cold.The coat shielded his upper body from the wind, but he felt the wind nibbling at the small patch of his ankle between his skinny red jeans and his flimsy sand shoes.He's dressed more for clubbing than nature.

He walked to the ruins, wondering how recently the landslide happened.Maybe he was thinking too much, but the silence of the atmosphere made him feel that this moment just happened.To his left, the hillside where the rubble had been shaken loomed in the darkness, a whitish crack where the rubble had split and hung on the surface.That's when Cam realized he could have been driving underneath the mountain when it collapsed.If he had been a few more minutes in the morning—if he hadn't returned to the cabin to get the champagne—he might have been pinned under a rock instead of standing here watching.

A sense of gratitude springs up, but reality hits me like vengeance.

He couldn't get to Glasgow this way, not tonight.

He wondered vaguely how long it would take the police to open up the old military road—the backup road in case of landslides.Another option is to drive all the way back to Inver Beach and then take a long detour from Auburn.It will take at least another four hours.

The premise is that Volvo can last that long.

"Shit," he cursed.Then he cursed even louder. "Hold!"

The gravel stayed there, motionless.

"That's what you have to do today, don't you?" he demanded, his voice hoarse, not sure whether he was talking to the rubble or to some god in the sky whom he didn't believe in at all.All he knew was that he was suddenly filled with resentment and anger.

"You have to ruin my only chance to go out to play, don't you!" His voice became louder and louder at the end of his rhetorical question. He kicked the stubborn stone hard, but when he kicked, he howled in pain.

He grabbed his foot and hopped up on one foot, cursing in succession.

"Damn, bastard, idiot trash shoes-"

He was so used to wearing walking boots all the time that he forgot how useless sand shoes were.Damn—did he have a broken toe?

He was about to take a good look, but a slow sweep of headlights heralded the arrival of someone else, none other than the police.

The police car pulled up behind the Volvo, and two cops got out, a man he didn't know, and a woman Cam had seen around town, but they were just acquaintances.

"Good evening," the female policeman nodded and walked towards him, while the male policeman opened the trunk of the police car and searched for things.

"Good evening," Cam replied. "I guess you are here to block the road?"

She nodded. "I reckon it'll take a few days to clear it up on New Year's Eve, not to mention snow is in the forecast. Are you going to Glasgow?"

"That's the plan."

"Gee, you'll have to take a detour through Auburn if you want to get there tonight."

"Where's the military driveway?" Cam asked hopefully. "Will it be open?"

"Not before tomorrow morning." She shrugged. "If I were you, I'd forget about Glasgow and head back to the Stag. It's too time-consuming to take the Auburn road and, as I said, the weather isn't great."

Cam swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "Thanks," he tried to force a weak smile. "I'll remember. Happy New Years in advance."

"You too. And remember, you'll need to move the barricades when you get to the intersection—we've sealed the road at the end. Make sure you put them back in, okay?"

He gave a short nod. "Will do."

The Volvo rattled when he put the key in the ignition, and his heart tensed, and the policewoman glanced over again, but on the second click, it started and he was able to turn around and drive away smoothly.

He was extra careful on the downhills, shifting gears smoothly and slowly, but as he approached the intersection he knew the Volvo couldn't last.The clutch groan and scrape showed no sign of getting any better—could be worse—and he feared that once it was off it wouldn't start again.

But he had to move the roadblock at the end of the road. He had no choice but to stop, but because it was going downhill, he didn't bother to start the engine to pass through the middle passage. roadblock.

When he got back in the car, there was no avoiding it—he closed his eyes and turned the key, flinching when the crackling sounded again, and it was worse than before.And it started more than once, again and again.At the fourth time, the Volvo finally started, but before Cam could breathe a sigh of relief, he was immediately enveloped by the reality that he would not be able to make it to Glasgow tonight anyway—at least not with this car.The intense disappointment made him want to vomit.

He desperately needed tonight, and now it was all over.

I can't do anything now but go home.Sitting alone in front of the TV in the cabin again.Just him and the warm bottle of champagne.

Open it up when you have something to celebrate.

Oh my god.

As he moved to the intersection, Cam considered for a moment whether to take the main road in Inver Beach instead of going home.He could go to the Stag and ask for a double whiskey.Drain it all in one swoop, then order another glass.The idea was so tempting, he turned on the left turn signal, sat there thinking for a minute, and let the lights flash.

But in the end, he turned right and turned onto the narrow winding road around the lake.The way to his small, gloomy cabin.

We hadn't walked a quarter of a mile beyond the intersection when it started snowing.At first, there were just a few small flakes of snow now and then, but soon they fell in succession.Large areas of the ground rose up.It was at this moment that Volvo finally died a heroic sacrifice.All this happened while climbing a hill.The car was struggling—Cam could feel it.He shifted into second gear, but the engine had started to rattle, rattled, then jolted, then shuddered, and finally stuck, coming to a stop right in the middle of the road.on the hill.

Two hundred yards from Rob Armstrong's cabin.

Depend on.You have to die here, right?

Cam banged his head hard on the steering wheel.There was an eerie satisfaction in the pain, and he bumped again.

"Fuck," he murmured. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

He fumbled in self-defeating five seconds before turning on the warning lights, then checked his phone—no signal, as expected—grabbed the flashlight in the glove compartment, and climbed out of the car.

As soon as he walked out of the cover of the Volvo, the violent and icy snowball stung his cheeks, and a thin layer had accumulated on the soles of his feet, so that when he twisted and slammed the car door, his right heel slipped and his whole body fell heavily. The buttocks fell on the icy and wet ground.His thin trousers were soaked instantly, and Cam stood up, cursing.

Obviously, God is going to play with him today.

He assessed the condition of the car and decided that the first thing to do was to move the car to prevent an accident.It is very likely that someone turned a corner and shoveled on the rear of the car.He turned on the flashlight and checked the road before and after, and found that the nearest emergency avoidance passage was not far from the slope.Moving the car up is no fun, but moving it downhill and through sharp turns is not an option at all.

Cam glanced at Rob Armstrong's house.The white walls loomed in the darkness, and a glimmer of light leaked through the front window. The owner should be at home.He pursed his lips, thinking.He really didn't want to ask for help—especially Rob's help, even if he had been uncharacteristically friendly the last time he'd seen him.

He had to at least try it himself first.After all, he is not small.

Good Moringa thing.

Cam opened the driver's side door, grabbed the edge of the roof with his right hand, put his feet on the road in slippery sand shoes as much as possible, reached into the car and carefully released the handbrake.

The moment it was released, the weight of the car immediately sank down.It took a lot of effort to keep it from slipping back, but soon he found that he couldn't push forward at all.After trying for less than a minute, Cam yanked the handbrake and freed himself from the car, panting heavily.

He stared at the Volvo's flashing yellow distress signal for another moment, then pursed his lips and turned toward Rob Armstrong's cabin, jaw set and determined.