I’m hitting the road this weekend. School is out for summer, so The Wife and I are packing the kids into the car and dragging them across the country.
To make it more “fun,” the children will stuffed into the back of a VW Beetle. No station wagon, no minivan, no giant, gas-guzzling SUV. Nope, we’ll be forcing them to endure 12 hours of travel in the back of a bug. (I can make this particular trip in 10.5 hours by myself, but there’s no way we’ll make it even close to that time with four bladders in the car.)
As if that weren’t enough high-quality fun, the children are teenagers now. The last time we road-tripped with them, they were younger, smaller, and sitting in the back of an SUV.
We were tempted frequently to murder them.
So now, they’re larger, and the car is smaller. Having completed his first year of high school, The Boy is practically all legs.So that should end well, right?
But since this kind of torture was once an American tradition, I feel the need to inflict it on our kids, as well as acquaint them with The Way Things Used to Be.
So at some point in this grueling ordeal, I will read them my mini-memoir, “Are We There Yet?: My True-Life Adventure on Road Trips.” Oral tradition is the means by which our history was originally passed on, and telling embarrassing stories about each other is a Phythyon Family practice from way back.
So the teenagers packed into the back of a bug like a couple of Too Hip For You sardines will be forced to put down their iPhones, take out their earbuds, and listen to me regale them with stories of the road in a bygone era.
I’m sure it will go well.
If you’re interested in those stories yourself, “Are We There Yet?” is free until midnight PDT today (Thursday, June 9). Click this link to download it to your Kindle. If you miss the sale, it’s only 99 cents regularly. Either way, you’ll know what it was like to be a child in the 1970’s, hurtling down the Interstate in the back of a station wagon as your brother lost a beloved toy out the window, as your father argued over the price of hamburgers, and as the family dog tried to kill everyone.
As for me, I am desperately hoping my kids don’t make any memoir-worthy material on this trip.
But at least I’ll be in the front seat.