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The Family that Hits the Road Together…(Insert Verb Here) Together

  • By Jessica Holt
  • 28 Jul, 2017
Back in the 1900s, we were a road-tripping family. 1997 was San Diego to San Francisco. 1998 was Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and a whole lot of Texas. 1999 was Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, Utah, and just enough of Wyoming to say we’d been there. 2000 was up the East Coast to Boston.

Some days we were like the Brady Bunch, blissfully riding mules into the Grand Canyon (we never actually did that, thank goodness) or dancing together at a luau in Hawaii. (That didn’t happen either. I’ve never been to Hawaii, and if I ever do go, I can’t see myself hula-ing). But my point is that there were times when we were a cohesive family unit, just enjoying the adventure and the time together.
Then day five or six would hit, and all of that time together in the car would have taken its toll. We were no longer the sha-na-na-na-na-na-na-ing Brady Bunch. We had become the Griswolds or the Little Miss Sunshine family, basically still in the car together only because the alternative to being in the car was to be out of the car on the side of the road somewhere watching the car drive away without you. Had cell phones and Uber been readily available (cell phones were...I just didn’t have one) that might have been a more appealing option. But this was the 1900s, remember. Options were limited.

Our car-trip fatigue always seemed to hit the hardest in big cities. My only vivid memory of Boston is being on a set of really wide cement steps that led to some very important part of American History. You know why I remember the steps but not the name of the very important part of American History? Because those steps were the location of my family’s East Coast trip meltdown. I don’t remember what the problem was or who was involved (If I had to guess I would say that I was involved and my brother, the peacekeeper, was not), but I do know that my teenage tour of Boston was not the best it could have been.

You’re probably thinking, at least we made it all the way to Boston without a meltdown. Yes, we did, but that was only because we averted a meltdown in New York City. We had been walking and walking and walking, and we didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I know now that when you’re on a self-guided walking tour, you’re not necessarily supposed to be getting anywhere. It’s the journey that matters, not the destination, because the destination is most likely right back where you started. And I like walking now...short distances, long distances, by things, to things. But back at the dawning of the 21st Century I wasn’t a big walker or a big crowds person. I don’t remember what all transpired, but the result was my parents leaving me and my brother in the middle of Manhattan to find our way back to the hotel. So while I don’t remember an actual meltdown, for my mom to leave us at least one Subway transfer away from the hotel, she must have really been ready for a break from us.
So after a 17 year cool-down period, we thought we’d travel up the East Coast again, this time to Maine, with my sister-in-law and my dog in tow. Last year my brother and sister-in-law drove through all 48 contiguous states without ever getting on an interstate (click on the map-logo at the end of this blog to learn more about that) and have since taken almost all of their trips by way of US backroads. So to keep that tradition alive, we’re going to take 25 driving hours to do what we could do in less than 15. But I’m looking forward to it. I really am. As long as my dog sits in his seat and behaves (he will...he realizes that going on vacation is a privilege and that a PetsHotel is never far away), and all of the luggage fits neatly in the cargo space without spilling over into the seating area, and there is at least one seat (or dog) between me and the next rider I think it will be a great trip!
Click the map below for more about the No-Interstate 48-state trip ...
More to come ...
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