My Family's Road Trip

A family road trip isn’t a family road trip without a few disasters thrown in to balance out the fun. No, sadly they can’t all be idyllic. But luckily for most of us the rose colored glasses will blur the unpleasant memories in the future. You’ll then look back on the trip and sigh with happiness. Unfortunately, our last trip can’t be blurred with rose colored glasses no matter how thick the lenses. You see, I recently part of the family road trip from Hell. Hell, yes, Hell. I was under the impression that vacations were supposed to be relaxing; this one was anything but.

We were going to Seattle; after three days in Seattle we would drive down to Olympia to visit my aunt and uncle. What could go wrong? We had everything planned. Every cost, every time, every place, and every snack was pre-decided.

Like Mrs. Watson my mom had every last minute detail planed. She held all of the plans and papers in one binder. The binder in question held two folders and a notebook. The first folder contained directions. Directions from every point to the next. Of course, the directions were also in order. She even had directions from our hotel to the closest Chevron station. This folder was blue and had the word ‘Directions’ emblazoned across the front. The next folder held our tickets and passes to everything. They were separated into sealed labeled envelopes. The itinerary was in a purple college ruled notebook. Each and every imaginable aspect of the trip was held in that book. It probably contained the instructions to the universe now that I think about it. Also, she was the only one allowed to touch it.

We planned to leave early Monday morning to beat the heat and the traffic. Surely traffic wouldn’t be bad on a Monday? It would a leisure...

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...rip culminated at the top of a stoplight at the top of a steep hill. The car was irate by this time. We just had to make it across the street and we would be at the hotel. When we pulled to a stop curls and wisps of steam began emanating from under the hood. Finally, after the longest two minutes of my life the light turned green. I’ll always remember that color fondly. The poor car was really steaming now. We shot across International Boulevard and swung into the Best Western parking lot.

Dad jerked the exhausted car to a halt in a shady spot. He leapt out and flipped the hood up. He poured his water bottle into the radiator. The car hissed furiously at the indignity of being driven so far. This was just the first part of the journey. We still had to get back across the state four days later. But to save you the pain and anguish I’ll leave the story here for now.