License to Thrill by Dan Gutman Page B

the window.
    His sister rolled her eyes, knowing that her brother wasn’t just boasting. He did know just about everything. That’s what happens when you’re born with a photographic memory.
    â€œHey, there’s a museum devoted to Billy the Kid in Fort Sumner,” Mrs. McDonald said excitedly. “And in Faywood, New Mexico, there’s a rock formation that looks just like a giant toilet.”
    Both sites would be perfect to gather material for her popular website, Amazing but True. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, depending on your point of view), it would be necessary to drive hundreds of miles out of the way to visit them.
    â€œPersonally,” Dr. McDonald said, “I would be more interested in learning about New Mexico’s involvement in the space program and the birth of the atomic bomb.”
    â€œBo-ring!” both kids hooted.
    â€œDad, you are such a stick-in-the-mud,” Pep said.
    â€œI vote for the big toilet,” said Coke.
    â€œBig toilet! Big toilet! Big toilet!” the twins chanted.
    â€œKnock it off back there!” shouted Dr. McDonald.
    When we think of the desert, a lot of people think of the Sahara in Africa—smooth, desolate, rolling sand dunes sculpted by the wind. But the desert of the American southwest doesn’t look anything like that. It’s mostly flat with low shrubs, interrupted by occasional road signs. There wasn’t much to look at out the window.

    The twins read or listened to music while Mrs. McDonald—as usual—spent thetime planning their route and looking up interesting places to visit. She had already decided that today’s destination would be Alamogordo, New Mexico. And because the money from Amazing but True had paid for the trip, she got to make most of the decisions.
    â€œHey, look at this,” she said after they’d been driving for an hour. “We’re not that far from Smokey Bear Museum.”
    â€œ Please tell me that we don’t have to go there, Mom,” Pep begged. “It sounds lame.”
    â€œYou don’t know anything about Smokey Bear Museum,” her mother admonished. “You shouldn’t criticize what you don’t know.”
    â€œI know it’s a museum about a cartoon bear,” Pep said.
    â€œShouldn’t that be Smokey the Bear?” asked Dr. McDonald.
    â€œNo, his official name is Smokey Bear,” replied Mrs. McDonald. “That’s what it says in the guidebook.”
    â€œMaybe the is Smokey’s middle name,” suggested Coke.
    In any case, Mrs. McDonald decided to bypass Smokey Bear Museum. She had other ideas. At Tularosa, Route 70 bends south. Just a few miles from Alamogordo, they saw this in the distance. . . .
    â€œWhat the heck is that ?” asked Dr. McDonald.

    â€œIt looks like a big pistachio nut,” Pep said.
    â€œIt is a big pistachio nut,” said Coke.
    â€œNot only is it a big pistachio nut,” reported Mrs. McDonald gleefully, “it’s the biggest pistachio nut in the world !”
    â€œHere we go again,” groaned Dr. McDonald, slapping his forehead. He stepped on the gas, hoping that if the car was moving fast enough, maybe he wouldn’t be asked to stop.
    â€œOh, come on, Ben!” Mrs. McDonald said. “It’s right off the road here. How could we go to Alamogordo, New Mexico, and not visit the world’s largest pistachio nut?”
    â€œYeah, lighten up, Dad,” said Coke.
    Dr. McDonald rolled his eyes and stamped on the brake. As a distinguished history professor at San Francisco State University, he had little regard for the tacky roadside attractions his wife and children found so fascinating. It was one of the few things they argued about.
    â€œI need to use the bathroom anyway,” he said, skidding off the highway just before he would have passed the giant pistachio.
    â€œCool!” the twins shouted as they hopped out of the