We went on our annual summer trip 6 hours away to MIL-land. It was fun. There was a lot of lake time and ponies to feed. We drove.
The blithe road trip is such a great Canadian fixture I can barely confess the transformation I have undergone to be in this place of hating it. We drove up the night before our first holiday to avoid the traffic. The road trip is torture for me. I used to get right into the high speeds, junk food, rest stops and 'sense of freedom'.
Now it is all sense of dread. The recognition that this trip is the most dangerous thing we do with our family. Testing the odds and driving holiday weekends when everyone is crazy, kids hot and yappy, 'pushing it' and, yesterday, rubbernecking at a roadside forest fire!
1km on, a sight out of my minds eye, a family vehicle flipped. I understand a 9 year old boy was thrown clear. There but for the grace of god...
I traveled a lot by car as a child. My dad was always the one helping some guy out of a drift in Wells Grey Park in the pitch dark of nighttime December. I know of a dozen gas stations that sell headlamps for early 80's Caprice Classics. I sigh knowingly at overheats, poor devils. It used to be all good. Go see Granny.
I hope I can get there again with a decent measure of careful on the side. In the meanwhile I am grateful my husband is as good a driver as he is. That he shares the driving to be smart.
I'll tell you I am so enjoying people cutting in front of me at 40km/hr. Cross-town traffic never looked so good!
Labels: driving, vacation