Dear Diary …
I just got back from a long family road trip up north. And when I say “long family road trip” I mean “LOOOOOOOOOONG family road trip.” Eight days … 1,902 miles.
As you can see, I counted. And the reason why I counted was because I had to drive … EVERYWHERE.
Now … of course I had to drive to get there … that’s a given. But was only about half of the miles. The rest of them came when … every single day … I was the one still driving everybody around.
This is a trip to go see friends and family … so you would think … maybe once we got there … they’d be the ones taking us around the … uhhh … you know … place that they LIVE.
Oh but no.
Every single day … “Well of course we’ll go in YOUR car.”
Wait … what? We will?
“Yeah well … we have to drive the kids.”
Did I miss a law somewhere where the children are only allowed to ride in the back seat of MY car and nobody else’s? And it’s not like anybody’s driving a dorky Smart Car around or anything, they all have perfectly acceptable cars to drive around multiple humans.
And yet there I was … playin’ taxi all week long.
And no … I’m not the one who was physically behind the wheel 100% of the time. That’s not what I’m really complaining about. It’s the fact that I piled 1,902 miles on to MY car … miles that mean more oil changes, more tires, more everything.
I’m just confused by the whole process. When I have friends and family visit me … then it’s the exact opposite.
“Oh well you need to drive because I don’t live here. I don’t know where anything is.”
OK … but what about me when I’m in your town?
“Oh you have Google Maps … you’ll be fine.”
And while we are on the topic of driving … can I just say that children have an uncanny … almost psychic ability … to pick the absolute worst time to declare that they have to go to the bathroom on a road trip.
Doesn’t matter how many times you ask them if they need to go when there’s an easy place to stop … they don’t have to go until you’re well beyond that place.
On this trip I get the message of bathroom death from my children when we are 10 miles from the Tappan Zee Bridge outside New York City. If you’re unfamiliar with this area … let me lay it out for you this way … picture in your head the worst traffic you drive in … then multiply that by 30 … and that’s what’s considered a “good day” on the roads in this area.
Also … there’s basically nowhere to stop … because most every exit is just another highway trying to whisk you away from the place that you want to actually go. And if there is an actual exit with stuff at it, it’s usually the weirdest and grossest gas stations and restaurants that don’t even have bathrooms.
You ever been to a Burger King without a bathroom? Well I have … because that’s where we stopped.
And you know me Diary … the single most important thing on a road trip is making good time. And this is not helping me “make good time.” I’m just watching that “estimated time of arrival” get further and further away and we tool around some yucky bridge town trying to find a toilet … even though the whole town looks like one giant toilet.
Oh and let’s not forget the wonderful grand finale of all of this … once we finally get to leave Toilet City and cross the Bridge From Hell, you know what they have on the other side? Tons and tons of places to stop and use the bathroom. None of which matter now!
Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye