Saturday, July 2, 2016

Road Trip

In America, the family road trip is a rite of passage, exceptional memories created for future generations of your spawn to reflect upon. It is a red white and blue institution, like baseball, apple pie, and politicians being full of themselves and baloney.

Road trips can be the prelude to new beginnings, new experiences, or new places. The colonist in all of us has a pre-disposition to explore, and from the early beginnings of our great experiment in the United States, the road trip was your birth rite.

I remember road trips with both my parents. Usually the funny or odd things stand out.

Like the time, "Don't Stop" by Fleetwood Mac was stuck in the 8 track player of my dad's TR-7 and played on constant loop from Texas to Cincinnati. Now listening to that song brings back Clockwork Orange like flashbacks and I'm sure permanently scarred me into always thinking about tomorrow when I should be thinking about today because, it will be here, better than before. I mean, everyone knows yesterdays gone, yesterdays gone...

Or the time, my mother and I road tripped to California from Wisconsin. This was certainly a new beginning. I had just learned how in karate class to calm my breathing. I learned that trip, when we got to the mountains, that 10% gradients with Semi's around our tiny car was stressful for some adults. I remember my mother pulling over, mid descent, and attempting to teach her karate breathing so we could finish the drive.

So, as a dad with daughters, I decided it was prudent to make sure my children experienced a road trip. A family member is to be married today in Florida, and we made the decision to drive from Wisconsin to Palm Harbor, which according to the AAA TripTik, is 39.25 hours round trip, 2,664 miles, or "What were you thinking" distance.

To further pander to the inner colonist in all of us, I bypassed the horse and buggy, but chose to attempt the trip in our Toyota Camry, in spite of the fact we have a perfectly fine larger vehicle we could have taken. The first argument started before we left the house during the attempted packing of enough suitcases to clothe a civil war infantry regiment, into the trunk. The backseat was filled with pillows and books and all the suitcases and clothes we couldn't fit in the trunk. Somehow 2 children fit into their car seats. I consciously figured since we were headed to Florida, that looking like the Beverly Hillbillies or a mobile version of hoarders was acceptable in the state. I was correct.

To give you a snapshot of our trip, I recorded the first hour highlights of our 39.25 hour round trip:

38 seconds into the trip, "I need a snack"

13 minutes in came, "When are we going to be at the hotel" which repeated in similar format 27 times in the first hour, including "are we there yet" "when are we going to be there" etc etc etc

26 minutes in, I was told we forgot someone at the house. Just before I applied the brakes and caused an accident, I learned that we had forgotten one of my youngest daughter's imaginary friends. I didn't like this particular imaginary friend anyway, so we kept driving. You miss my on time choo choo, you no get ride.

34 minutes in I was asked, "Can I have some strawberries to make me feel better about missing our house"

48 minutes in, I realize our oldest daughter has yet to speak as she is intensely reading a new book. I instantly realize she has achieved "most favorite daughter status" a very rare and special award. I pray quickly this will continue.

52 minutes in, gas stop. Not for gas, but for potty. Boys don't do this, had I had sons, they would have had to refill the bottle that caused the need to tinkle.

58 minutes in I became a DJ, playing songs like, "The Hand Clap" song by Fitz and the Tantrums, "Roar" by Katy Perry, "Lips are Movin" by Megan with an H, and so on and so forth.

At the end of this first hour, I knew we were going to have a wonderful trip and there would be some great memories with my girls. And while we didn't get Fleetwood Mac stuck in the 8 track, or have to pull over to kung fu breathe on the side of the road in the mountains, we got to make our own memories.

Someday I look forward to hearing my daughters tell me about their first road trip with their children if they are so blessed. If it's anything like the first half of the one I just had, it will be worth every "are we there yet"

bvd











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