On the Road

Ah, the joys of traveling. When we lived in Denver, where all three kids came into the world in four years, we didn't take many car trips, except for day excursions into the mountains. One day, however, we received a Montana view book from our friends Dave and Suzanne. There was no note attached, just photo after photo of beautiful landscapes. Andy and I looked at each other and said "Let's go!". Piling the munchkins into our big green station wagon, we stayed overnight in a cabin at Yellowstone National Park and headed for Roundup, Montana. The huge Crow Indian Reservation was on our way, and we stupidly thought there would be gas stations. Not so much. With the fuel needle creeping well south of the red mark, we finally exited the reservation and giddy with relief, found a place to gas up.

After we moved to the suburbs of Philadelphia, a car trip to see the grandparents in Toledo became possible. As the kids tended to get bored and restless during the nine-hour journey, we usually broke it up with an overnight stay.  So we bedded down for the night about halfway there. The kids wanted to watch TV, so Andy, tired from driving, took the fold-out bed. The girls shared one bed and Peter and I took the other. In the wee hours, while getting up to use the bathroom, Hannah hits her head on the corner of the dresser between the beds and starts screaming. I quickly turn on the light, just as Andy, somewhat disoriented, sits up suddenly and has the bed fold up like a taco with him inside. By now, everyone is awake, laughing hysterically. There was no chance of going back to sleep, so we found an open shop and loaded up on donuts, coffee and orange juice. My parents were quite surprised when we showed up at 8:00 a.m. with a story to tell.

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