It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

Ah, the road trip.  The words themselves conjure up feelings of wild freedom, do they not?  I see feet up on the dashboard and hair blowing in the wind from windows that are wide open.  There are good snacks and good music  and for some reason in this image I’m always a california blonde.  Weird.

Even when we got into the massively overloaded truck this was still my image.  In fact, I declared, “Road Trip!!!  Oh yeah!!!”  at the top of my lungs upon us leaving. They answered my call with whistles and hollers.  We were going to be carefree and follow the open road.  Or really just the highway all the way to Whistler, with jackets piled beneath our feet and random belongings on our lap because there was simply no where else to put it.  We looked ridiculous and like we were moving with all of our belongings in just this truck.  We were the Griswold’s.

It really was a good okay drive.  Until the end.  The end always kills us.  It really doesn’t matter if we’re driving for an hour or 10, the last 20 minutes are our doom.  This is probably because we’re one of those families that insists on looking out the windows, playing games or singing dumb songs instead of having our children’s heads buried in electronics.  When will we learn!  Just let them stare at their little screens!!

We instagrammed pictures of the view and the first sightings of snow.  I made up a ridiculous song about how Whistler got its name from a Marmot who whistles and during the chorus everyone had to whistle and clap along.  Someone farted.  Good times, good times.

But that last 20 minutes when I pull out the map is when it all gets chaotic.  I start looking for street signs and get a little panicky because I’m horrible with directions and am never sure if the left on the map is an actual left or a right.  I repeat the address a bazillion times.  We circle the parking lot for a spot and the kids lose it.  They get in each others faces, they poke, suddenly someone is touching someone and all hell is breaking loose.  We holler things like just.  stop.  already!

And then we arrive.  And we set up.  And we snuggle on the couch and play cards and fall asleep to a really bad spy kids movie.

When I woke up this morning it was still dark outside.  I peeked through the slats of the wooden blinds as I stayed snuggled cozily in bed.  There was snow on the ground and white lights twinkling to light up the darkness.  It felt  close to what heaven must feel like .


4 thoughts on “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

  1. So fun, Rhonda! Thanks for that romp. And I’m green with envy for your Whistler vacation, oh to smell that evergreen air and revel in the snow. Alas!


  2. I am a california blonde in my road trip dreams too! Also, I am driving to California.. In either an old station wagon or some kind of convertible.. Too many movies maybe?


  3. It’s true, Mel! I do have my phone but I gave it to the boys to follow. They just kept following the blue dot yelling, “we’re off course! We’re off course!! Wait, we’re back on….”
    You’ll be back to visit one day, Kathryn. Believe me, I envy the fact that you live in a place where you can afford your own house!!
    Sarah!! You too?! I’m usually in a small college student type car but I think I need to upgrade my dream to a station wagon. Way cooler. I am always driving by the ocean though. Doesn’t matter where we are, you can see it and smell it in the air. ha ha


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