Chapter 3

The first day was incredibly uneventful. They drove, stopped to get gas as needed, stopped to stretch their legs. They didn't even stop to eat anywhere. It was just about getting to their required stop for the night, just outside Chicago. They got a hotel just off the interstate and slept before getting up early in order to get on their way again. Tim could sense that Tony was wondering if he'd call Delilah, but Tim didn't. He hadn't heard back from her; so he didn't bring it up. Instead, they ate breakfast at the hotel, filled the tank and started driving again. Tony had decided that they couldn't take the same route as they had to go to Mt. Rushmore. So instead of going through South Dakota, they were going through North Dakota. Tim wasn't sure it would make much of a difference, but he didn't care much since it only added a couple of hours of drive time.

Tim wasn't sure if he was sorry that he was the one driving at this point because Tony was looking through the atlas to pass the time (since they had so much of that), and he noticed something. He looked up with that familiar gleam in his eyes.

"Okay, Probie."

"What," Tim said, warily.

"Instead of going on I-94 toward Eau Claire, we're going to stay on I-90 and head toward Austin, Minnesota."

"What? Why?" Tim asked. "That's a little different from what we'd planned."

"Remember the rules of road trips. A good road trip has to start with an unplanned stop."

"But we've already stopped a lot of times," Tim said. "We got a hotel last night!"

"To get gas and take a break. To sleep. This is a stop."

"And what is this stop?"

"The Spam Museum!"

"You have got to be kidding me," Tim said. "There's a museum dedicated to Spam?"

"Yes! In Austin. So that's where we're going, and we are going to stop there and you are going to enjoy it."

For a second, Tim felt a little exasperated. Tony had seemed so intent on getting to Yellowstone and now, he was willing to go out of their way just to get to the Spam Museum? Then, he smiled.

"I guess after all the other crazy stuff we've seen, there's no reason not to add this to the list."

"That's the spirit!" Tony said. "Now, don't forget!"

"You'd never let me," Tim said.

"Darn right."

Tim felt less irritated as he drove on.

I'm just being grumpy, and there's no reason to be, not right now. I can't let my fight with Delilah ruin this trip. We'll work it out.

He kept up his silent pep talk until he was almost excited to see the Spam Museum. He took the route that would lead them to Austin.

Tony started giving him directions, but once they got close to Austin, Tim barely needed them. There were billboards. Lots of billboards.

"Look at that, Tim! It's almost as good as Wall Drug!" Tony said. "'The Guggenheim doesn't have free samples.' Ha!"

Tim laughed, too. Something this goofy should have silly billboards. He took the exit and followed the signs. Then, he saw the museum.

"This is...a lot bigger than I was expecting," he said.

Tony laughed. "Yeah, but it's Spam!"

Tim just laughed and parked the car.

"We'll have to get pictures. No one will believe that we went to a museum dedicated to canned meat."

"Oh, yes, they will. After all the other stuff we've seen?"

"True. We still need pictures."

"Absolutely."

They got out of the car and headed to the museum. Pictures out front, of course. Then, they went inside. There were displays of Spam as it was sold all over the world, even in places like South Korea which, apparently, was the second largest consumer of Spam after the U.S. There were exhibits of bizarre Spam products, like Spam pizza. There was a grocery-store-like display with different varieties of Spam.

"It really is all Spam," Tim said, in a kind of awe. "I can't believe that I'm seeing this."

Tony laughed again.

"I didn't think anything could be more bizarre than Wall Drug."

Tim grinned. "I don't think this is more bizarre. It's just a different kind of bizarre."

"I think we have to go to the gift shop."

"I think you're right."

They headed to the gift shop and found everything Spam-related that they could have imagined. More than they could have imagined. Tim was the one who found the Spam earrings and decided that they needed to get them for Abby. They both bought Spam t-shirts, of course. Then, they decided to get Spam t-shirts for Jimmy, Breena and Victoria. Jimmy's read I think therefore I Spam. Breena's had a flock of flying pigs on it, and Victoria's was a tie-dyed shirt that just had SPAM written on it. They felt very successful as they left the museum.

"Well, Tim? A worthy diversion?" Tony asked.

Tim nodded. "Yes. I think I can agree that it was worth stopping...but I will never eat it."

"Not required. I don't like it, either."

"Then, we should get going and stop somewhere without Spam to get lunch."

"Sounds good. We still on track to get to Bismarck tonight?"

"Yeah. This only put us about an hour behind. It'll be later, but we can make it, and tomorrow won't be as much driving. We can take our time and find a good place to stop."

"Gardiner, Montana," Tony said. "How good do you think it'll be?"

"Good enough that we won't have to sleep in the car," Tim said.

"Fine, fine. I'm offering you the chance to rough it and..."

"And I'm saying that there's no way I'm sleeping in the car."

Tony took over the driving at Austin. They headed northward, toward Fargo, North Dakota.

"Just so you know, Probie, we're stopping in Fargo."

"What? Why?" Tim asked. "What's in Fargo? The Tang factory?"

Tony laughed. "No. I don't care what's in the city. I just want a picture by a sign that says Fargo on it."

"Okay. I'll ask again. Why?"

"Because I'm a fan of the movie."

"There's a movie about Fargo, North Dakota?"

"Oh, come on, McGee! You can't be that out of touch!"

Tim smiled. "Never underestimate how out of touch I am. When did it come out?"

"In the 90s."

"I was in college. It may as well have not existed for all the attention I paid to movies."

"Well, I liked the movie. I know it'll be nothing like the real place, but I still want a picture."

"Okay, then," Tim said. "I'm sure we can find a sign that has Fargo written on it."

He started looking through the map of Fargo and smiled to himself.

"Oh, Tony, have I got the sign for you."

"What?" Tony asked.

"There's apparently some big entertainment complex and guess what it's called."

"What?"

"Fargodome!"

Tony laughed. "Perfect! We're stopping there."

"All right."

Tim plugged it into the GPS just to make sure that they could navigate to it once they got to Fargo. He had a regular atlas with them, too, but it was always nice to have some extra help.

It was another few hours of driving before they got to Fargo. Tim navigated them to the Fargodome with its huge neon sign and Tony made Tim take his picture standing beneath it. Then, in spite of Tim's protests, Tony made him get a photo, too.

"Tony, I don't even know anything about the movie!"

"I don't care! You are getting your picture with the Fargodome!"

Tim chuckled and gave in. He posed beneath the large sign. Then, it was back in the car and off toward Bismarck, where they were planning to stop for the night.

As they got closer, Tim started to doze a little. It was late and driving was tiring, even though he'd always felt that it shouldn't be, given that he wasn't actually doing anything.

"So...when are you going to ask her, Tim?"

Tim jumped a little.

"Huh? What?"

He looked over and saw Tony smile in the darkness.

"Delilah. When are you going to ask her?"

"Oh," Tim said, unable to come up with anything better than that.

"Come on! You bought the ring; you must want to."

"I do."

"Keep practicing those words."

Tim rolled his eyes, even though he knew Tony couldn't see it.

"Really, Tim. What's keeping you from it?"

Tim stared out the windshield, watching the headlights of cars going the other way.

"What if she says no."

"Do you really think she would?" Tony asked.

Tim sighed. "I don't know. She hasn't dumped me yet and I haven't exactly been the perfect boyfriend. In fact, I'm about as far from perfect as you can get."

"I'd head slap you if I could, Tim," Tony said, sharply. "Who says you have to be perfect? If she wanted something else, she'd go and get it. You know she won't stay with you out of pity."

"I know that much," Tim said.

"But?"

"But...what if she doesn't want marriage? What if it's just that she wants this temporary situation and nothing more? I want more."

"Well, I'm far from an expert at this stuff, but have you talked about it at all?"

"Some."

"So...no, then."

"No! We have...just...vaguely," Tim admitted.

"So what are you going to do about it? If you bought the ring already..."

"Well, I had made some plans, but she's in Dubai right now. Not exactly the kind of thing you want to do long distance."

"Yeah, sure. I can see you putting it off. Won't get any easier."

"I know." Tim looked ahead. "Bismarck is coming up. We should watch for a hotel."

"Sounds good," Tony said, letting Tim change the subject.

They drove to a hotel just off the freeway and got a room.

"All I want is to spend some quality time not moving," Tim said. "That was a very long day of driving. I'm glad tomorrow will be shorter."

"No argument here. I'm ready to go to sleep right now," Tony said. "See you in the morning, Probie."

"G'night," Tim said.

They both went to sleep quickly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony woke up first, and for just a moment, he thought about how significant that would have been just a few years ago, when Tim was still having all his problems from the Dearing case and the bombing at headquarters. It was nice that things were, more or less, normal on that front. Tim apparently had enough to worry about without adding that to the mix.

Thinking about Tim getting married was a little trippy, not because Tim couldn't possibly get married, but just the idea of someone on the team actually having a normal relationship was almost bizarre. The closest they had to that right now was Jimmy and Breena. The fact that Tim and Delilah had lasted this long and through so many problems was a good indicator of how well they could manage being married, as far as Tony was concerned. They'd had a lot of struggles and still come out of them together.

Tony sat up and crept to the little balcony, trying not to disturb Tim's slumber. It was only five a.m. and they didn't need to rush to get to Gardiner. He leaned on the railing and looked out at the view...of the parking lot. Not exactly the most inspiring sight, but still, he liked knowing where they were and where they were going. There would be amazing views soon enough.

When are you going to say something, DiNozzo?

That was the question. He knew he should. He knew he needed to, but he hadn't quite figured out the best way to explain it without it sounding wrong. Would Gibbs know already? Tony wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Gibbs always seemed to know everything. Well, almost always. Tony still remembered how Tim seemed to feel that Gibbs' lack of knowledge about his possible promotion was indicative of his overall importance on the team.

Would I feel that way, too?

Probably to some degree. Maybe not as intensely as Tim had, but Gibbs not knowing something seemed tantamount to saying that he didn't care to know about it. However, he also appreciated that he didn't need to explain himself to Gibbs just yet. If Gibbs did know about it, he wasn't saying anything to Tony about it, and that was okay. For now.

As he looked out over the parking lot, he realized just how glad he was that he had this time. The initial idea for a road trip had just been because he had wanted to keep up the trend. But now, he was seeing that this was going to be a good thing for him in a lot of ways.

It was early enough in the year that he felt a little chill, so he went back into the room and lay down on his bed again. Even when he finally told Tim what had sparked this whole adventure, he was pretty sure they'd still have fun. Sure, Tim would be shocked, maybe even a little unbelieving, but he'd benefit from it, too.

He sat up and turned on the TV, glad that the volume was still low from the night before. Then, he turned it down even more and sat on the end of the bed, mostly channel-surfing, while he waited for Tim to wake up.

After about an hour, Tim began to stir. Then, he sat up, yawning and stretching.

"Finally awake, McGee?" Tony asked, grinning.

Tim looked over at him.

"What time is it?"

"Just after six thirty."

"That's not finally. That's perfect," Tim said. "Enough time to shower, eat breakfast and no need to rush. Perfect." He smiled and got out of bed, grabbed his clothes and scooted into the bathroom before Tony could get in ahead of him.

"Sneaky, McGee," Tony said. "Sneaky."

But as Tim had said, they were in no rush. It certainly wasn't worth trying to get Tim to hurry up.

Tony decided that he was glad Tim wasn't pushing him to say what he had to say. It was probably obvious that he had a reason for the trip, but they were both enjoying themselves. That was better than reaching for some kind of healing.

They both got ready, ate breakfast in the hotel and then, it was back in the car to head for Gardiner. At the car, Tony grinned and held up his hand.

"Ready, Tim?"

Tim smiled and held up his own hands.

"One. Two. Three."

Tony threw out scissors, and Tim threw out rock.

"Rock crushes scissors," Tim said. "I'm driving first."

"Fine, fine. I get to pick the music, then."

"All right."

They got in the car and started on their way.

"I hope you're ready for Paul Simon. I can already hear the strains of 'Call Me Al'."

"Well, you've sold it," Tim said. "Put it in."

Tony wondered if Tim would know the music or if he'd be completely unfamiliar with it. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't actually sure what Tim liked beyond jazz...if anything. They talked through the first few songs, but then, Tim reached over and turned up the volume. To Tony's surprise, he started singing along as "You Can Call Me Al" began. He looked over and grinned before refocusing on the road.

Tony started singing along on the second verse. During the interlude, by unspoken consent, Tim started whistling along while Tony played the drums on the dashboard. They sang the last verse together. It was like they'd planned the whole thing. When the song ended, Tony applauded.

"Not bad, Probie!"

Tim laughed. "I always liked that song."

"I wasn't sure you'd even know it."

"I really like Paul Simon."

"It's not jazz or even fake jazz."

"I'm not confined to only one type of music, you know. I'm allowed to enjoy other genres."

"I just realized that I've never really known what kind of music you like."

"It's nothing unique," Tim said. "I like some stuff. Don't like other stuff. Just like anyone."

"Like what?"

Tim shrugged. "I don't care much for what Abby listens to."

Tony laughed. "Did you ever tell her that?"

"No. Are you crazy? She'd have tied me down and forced me to listen to it until I was brainwashed into liking it."

"That's true. It would have been funny to watch."

"Yeah. With earplugs."

"Exactly."

Tim turned down the volume as the next song began.

"So what else don't you like?"

Tim glanced at him again. "Why?"

"Just curious."

Tim shrugged again. "I don't know. I don't care much for rap or hip-hop and stuff like that. No country music."

"What? No 'Achy, Breaky Heart' or 'Margaritaville'?"

"Now, you're bringing back horrible memories of being trapped on the school bus with a driver who loved country music. I can't count the number of times I heard 'Boot Scootin' Boogie' going to school," Tim said, putting an exaggerated twang in his voice.

"Ah, fond memories."

"No. Are you a country fan?"

"Oh, I'm a fan of anything I like. There are a few country songs I like, some of the fifties-era musicals. It's like movies. Can't restrict yourself based on type. You might miss some real gems."

"And some real stinkers," Tim said.

"Gotta take the good with the bad, Probie."

"The nice thing about music is that I don't have to take the bad. If I don't like it, I don't have to listen."

"Except here."

"Is that a threat?" Tim asked.

"Maybe."

"Promise me that you won't make me listen to 'Boot Scootin' Boogie'."

"Maybe."

"If you actually own that song, I may never forgive you."

"You're very passionate about this."

"Don't you have a song that you just hate?"

Tony thought about it for a second.

"The Lamb Chop song."

Tim started laughing. "The what?"

"The Lamb Chop song. You know...hand puppets and there was the lady...uh...Shari Lewis, I think."

"You watched a show about puppets?"

"No. I didn't."

"Then, how did you know about it?"

"Let's see. Why do I know it?"

"What is the song?"

"Are you sure you want to know? If you've never heard it before, it will get in your head."

"We can go back to Paul Simon, after."

"Okay, okay." Tony felt a little embarrassed. There were other songs he didn't like. Why was it this one that had popped into his head when Tim asked the question?

"Well? I'm waiting, Pavarotti."

"This is the song that doesn't end.
Yes, it goes on and on, my friend!
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was
And they'll continue singing it forever just because
This is the song that doesn't end.
Yes, it goes on and on, my friend!
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was
And they'll continue singing it forever just because
This is the..."

"Wait, it just goes on like that?"

"Yes. Forever." Then, he remembered why he had known the song in the first place. "Back in college, we were watching a game that one of the guys had recorded while he was home. We didn't have cable or something like that. So, he brought it back and right in the middle of the game, this show started with three hand puppets and this Shari Lewis. It turned out that his little sister had decided she wanted to record the show and hadn't told anyone. She just pushed record."

"Did you actually watch the episode?" Tim asked, grinning.

"No. We fast-forwarded through most of it, but then, we didn't want to miss the game; so we figured it was about twenty minutes and we started it up again...just in time to see this Lamb Chop puppet thing start singing the song. Over and over again. Other puppets joined in, and little kids joined in. Then, finally, the show ended and we got to see the rest of the game. But for some reason, that whole year, people would just start singing it for no good reason. It got so annoying that the frat house passed a rule the next year that anyone who started singing the Lamb Chop song would have to go streaking down Sorority Row."

"And? How many had to?"

"Three or four."

"Including you?"

"No," Tony said. "I hated it."

"Well, that tops my school bus story. ...but what if I went and found some of your old frat buddies and asked them?" Tim asked slyly.

"Just drive, McGee. Don't get any bright ideas."

Tim just laughed and turned up the volume on Paul Simon and they continued to sing along.