The Ancient City of Quasdalia

 

We were stuck. In the center of the vast city of curves and power blocks, we had driven the auto into a pot hole the size of which is unmentionable given the limitations on descriptive speech. It was mammoth. And speaking of those woolly beasts, the hole might have accommodated dozens of the critters as well as distant relatives from the Kingdom of Apes, Gnu and Wildebeests. Exaggeration aside, it was a big hole.

Speaking of holes, we decided at that time to delay our trip to Quasdalia, and over coffee and donuts, decided to spend the remainder of our day relishing the gifts of the ancients. We left the auto in the hole with a trustworthy mechanic and hiked roughly 100 yards to a nearby motel. The Wishing Well Motel, aptly named for the well sitting at the entrance to the parking lot. Auntie promptly tossed a coin into the well as we passed and announced that she was hoping for a quick solution to our dilemma. When I told her that keeping wishes a secret was crucial to their being granted, she quickly recanted.