This past July marked fifty-two years since Neil Armstrong took one giant leap for mankind on the surface of the moon, leaving behind an American flag, some pretty funky footprints, and a plaque reading: “Here men from planet Earth first set foot upon the moon. July 1969 A. D. We came in peace for all mankind.” The message, I’m sure, is of great comfort to those visiting aliens who can read the English language.
But that’s not all the crew of the Apollo 11 left behind. They also abandoned, among other things, two golf balls, twelve cameras, twelve pairs of boots, a telescope, and bags of human waste, including urine, vomit, and yes, feces. In fact, between the six Apollo missions that landed on the moon, there have been ninety-six bags of human waste left behind. The items were left in order to compensate for the additional weight of the moonrocks the astronauts brought back. There just wasn’t enough room for the golf balls and poop.
It does seem like a very human thing to do to leave behind a trail of stuff. My family certainly did on our most recent trip. With some areas of the country a little more on edge than others and Covid numbers creeping up, we decided to stay a little closer to home for our summer family vacation this year. And so, we rented a cabin on Table Rock Lake in the southern part of our home state of Missouri.
We packed our suitcases, attached the cartop carrier filled with cycling and fishing gear, strapped our four bicycles to the back, and piled into the family truckster along with a cooler of snacks and a laundry basketful of goods for setting up our temporary home away from home. Fully loaded down, we headed out for our four-hour drive to the lake.
Eleven hours later, we arrived in a borrowed Jeep, with slightly dampened spirits, and in possession of only some of our belongings. The truckster (a 2020 Subaru Outback with just over 20,000 miles on it) decided it would rather make only half the journey and died a spectacular death on the interstate.
Fortunately, we did make it to the side of the road in a relatively wide-open spot where we could escape the shoulder over a grassy divide to a frontage road sporting a run-down motel that a very kind state trooper who soon stopped to help us called “not a nice place.”
After an hour or so of fighting the world’s most complicated phone tree to talk to someone with our insurance company at 5:00 on a Saturday, and calling on the kindness of some amazing family reinforcements who quickly volunteered to come to our rescue, we unstrapped our bikes and headed a couple miles down the frontage road to a safer part of the town whose last exit we’d just passed.
The truckster, minus a functional transmission and plus our luggage, got towed to the nearest Subaru dealership. That is at least located in the direction we were going, though is also an hour further from where we actually live.
Meanwhile, we played cards on the parking lot sidewalk of a gas station convenience store surrounded by our bikes and enjoying a dinner of the finest gas station convenience store food we could find, until my sister arrived with her Jeep complete with trailer hitch so we could transport our bicycles. Our nephew also came, so that he could transport her back to our house so she could take the car our oldest son normally drives back home for the week.
Next, we headed to the Subaru dealership, explained to a suspicious night security guard that we just wanted our suitcases, and rescued what we could. The Jeep held a lot, and with a second trip to the truckster the next day, we got most of our stuff transported to the cabin, where we strategized through the week how to get everything back home again.
Of course, we didn’t. The laundry basket of household stuff broke in the process and so we disposed of it and we didn’t need to bring any food back with us, so a lot of little things could fit inside the empty ice chest. We threw away what we had to, left the household supplies that might be useful to future renters, and signed the guestbook: “We came in peace for all mankind.” The hubbs then pieced together the rest in the back of the Jeep, playing his finest game yet of what we like to call “Car Jenga.”
Despite the ridiculous start and slightly cramped end, our vacation really was a lot of fun, and our left-behind hand soap, paper plates, and Clorox wipes were a pretty good trade-off for the memories made. We are definitely going to want the car back eventually, though. So far, we’re hopeful we might be able to retrieve it by the end of next week.
It’s now been fifty-two years and mankind has not yet retrieved most of its left-behind stuff from the moon. Frankly, no one misses the golf balls. They seem a pretty good trade-off for a pile of moonrocks and memories of an out-of-this-world trip. But with all the bacteria that has been exposed for decades to the environment of the moon, there are some scientists who are eager to get their hands on the poop. Personally, I think I’d just be happy with the rocks.
15 thoughts on “Leave the Poop. Take the Rocks.”
Great story. We kind of had a similar experience in the 70s in Deadwood, SD. A drunken groom coming from his wedding reception rear ended us ar a stoplight. No damage to our Jeep but totaled my parent’s foldout camper. We were unable to remove anything from the camper. Even tho it was 4th of July weekend, State Farm wrote us a check and basically paid for clothing, food, etc. The added bonus was that I didn’t have to sleep or cook the rest of the vacation.
Gotta look at the bright side.
Wow. I’m glad your car was covered by warranty but still… Seems like you have a pretty good attitude about it.
At some point you just have to choose to either laugh or cry. Unfortunately this was not the only hiccup of the trip. Laughing seems wiser.
Choosing to laugh helps more, I think.
Imagine how boring it could have been if things had been ordinary! I’ve always wondered what those things were on the moon and now I know they’re golf balls.
Sounds like it’s kind of a mess up there.
It will probably be your most memorable vacation as the years go by.
True. It makes for a good story.
A similar thing happened to me and my wife a few years back. Car breaking down on holiday I mean – not going to the Moon and leaving bags of rubbish behind. One of the con rods snapped in my Toyota’s motor. Luckily on the outskirts of a town. We got towed into a garage. I’d already figured this was terminal for the car – it was worth more than the car to repair the motor. So I sold it to the garage owner for the value of its registration. This, it turned out, was the same as the hire cost of a car to get home…
Frustrating! But I’m glad it worked out ok. Ours is a fairly new car, and a notoriously reliable make and model, of the variety you can rarely find used because they don’t lose much value and people drive them forever. It was a solvable problem, but one we should not have had to deal with. Oh well. We made it work and got a story out of it.
Rental cars in the states are hard to come by right now, which I hear is one of those weird ripple effects of Covid shutdowns. Car manufacturing continues to be sluggish because of supply line issues and a lot of rental companies sold off their fleets when people weren’t traveling and renting cars. Now they can’t replace them.
that’s pretty interesting about the astronaut poops on the moon. So did the moon lander have a toilet? Imagine being the first human to shit on another planet.
Head over to my blog to check out my latest post about pooping!
Pretty sure there wasn’t, which begs the question, had they stranded an astronaut on the moon, how would he have grown enough potatoes to survive? 😉
Great. Fucking. Movie. Whenever it’s on cable I keep it on and my wife criticizes me, “this movie again?”. Lmao
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