Vacation Driving

We arrived in Birmingham, driveway to driveway, in 10 hours and 25 minutes. I'm one of those dads who firmly believes in arriving at the destination. I'm not much for roadside stops and whatnot...and I have a healthy cynicism for billboards advertising things like Texas Oil Museums and the Bonnie & Clyde Ambush Museum.

And I got to thinking about my family's vacation drives growing up. They weren't all that memorable. Maybe it's because we pretty much went to the Gulf Coast each summer and the drive was ultimately the same that we didn't stop much.

Sure, every now and then we'd stop at a roadside stand to get some peanuts that had been boiled in the shell or because my aunts needed some vegetables or fruit for various dishes they might be "fixing" once at the hotel or house...depending on what my grandfather had rented for that 10 days deal. But we were pretty much staying in the car or staying within a 15-foot radius of it.

In fact, the only real stops we made in the 4-hour drive was when we crossed the state line. It was the same deal every year: We get out, we stand in two states at once, the parents took pictures and then faked like they were leaving us. There was comfort in the hokey familiarity. When we saw Florala signs, we'd start getting pumped.

So, I tell you all that to say we didn't stop...except as necessary for meals or pit stops for Lloyd, and those are mostly at the state-sponsored rest areas because they have dog runs and such. And, kudos to Mississippi for having a dog-walk area near the rest-rooms. A sign post has rest-room stick figure people with arrows pointing, and one of them has stick-figure dog on it with an arrow pointing to a grassy area. Around this grassy area were little fake fire-hydrants. Like 10 of 'em. Pretty funny if you're asking me.

While I'm not much for stopping, I am big on interaction. We chat...well, when the girls aren't sleeping (they're teenagers now...they do that). We listen to music (of which Shelby helps us all dance, and in this case did an interpretive dance to R.E.M.'s "The Great Beyond" and The Talking Heads' "And She Was"--which had me in stitches. She's one funny kid.) and the new form of interaction is checking in with various family members through text messages. My niece wanted us to take the shortest way--I assured her we were. The Barnstorming Uncle Shane bemoaned the U.S. loss to Ghana with Kelsey. Shelby informed Mom where we were and took a ton of photos from her phone.

I remember putting my foot under my dad's seat and lifting up my toes until my dad said, "I can feel that! Knock it off!" I remember my mom agitating my dad with driving suggestions. I remember the imaginary line down the back seat we couldn't cross and I would look for loopholes, such as putting my finger into my sister's airspace (to which her response would be to throw her face into my finger and then yell that I'd hit her).

But I don't remember many stops.

And I guess I just repeat what my parents did. I mean, we've crossed the Mississippi River at least 15 times and don't have a photo there. The only stop we've ever made is at the Capulin Volcano in Colorado, and that was only to get the kids out and let them walk around...and it's only a state park parking fee.

Maybe that's where I got the "gotta make good time" mindset.

But Lloyd and I were exhausted last night and went to bed at 9PM. We didn't move until 6:45AM. We made good time, though.

So, you're task today at The Diner, is to fill me in on good roadside stops along the way so I might re-think the making time philosophy...