By Georgia Osten
We set out on our road trip to North Carolina last Wednesday. GPS told us it would take 16 hours, so leaving at 5 am, we were determined we could make it in one day. Three generations of us: me, my daughter, 3 grands all under the age of 8 and a 5-year old yellow lab named Texas. We had plenty of room, plenty of snacks and a styrofoam cooler full of drinks, yogurt and fruit. We made the kids promise they wouldn’t ask “how much longer?” Of course, that didn’t work. Maybe 1 hour into the trip, Michael asked, “when are we going be in North Carolina?” We began to tell them we wouldn’t arrive until they were fast asleep late tonight. We told them when we left Texas we had to go through 5 more states before we reached North Carolina. We pointed out the welcome sign at each state line.
By Georgia, we had already gone through 8 CD movies and the time changed to EST – one hour later. Kelly had driven 8 hours by then, so it was my turn to take over. We had many potty breaks, some false alarms and some stops on the side of the road. Hanging out the door is especially easier where the boys were concerned. The roadside parks were convenient, Texas didn’t mind getting out to stretch her legs and get a drink of water. She had to jump over the styrofoam cooler to get out, though, and once didn’t make it so we drove the rest of the way with a hole in the top of the cooler.
Darkness set in and Kel took over driving again in the rain and drizzle. About an hour out, Dax, the 3-year old, had a meltdown, waking from a nap only to realize he was still in the blasted car, nothing would calm him but to change out the movie for his favorite Daniel Tiger and another snack. At one point, Kelly said “they have to stop eating!”
Eighteen hours later, at almost midnight, we reached our destination. The kids were so excited, and Kel and I were so exhausted. All we could think about was climbing into bed. The kids went straight to their playroom and began pulling out all their favorite toys. Dax couldn’t wait to find his Star Wars light stick. All Texas cared about was making sure her bed came in from the car.
Our 8-year old, Addyson, claimed she would NEVER do this again – This was the Worst Road Trip Ever!!
[8-8-2016]
GO’s Sand Bucket is only one beach bum’s journal of life at the beach, probably something each of you can relate to. Please feel free to email me with your thoughts, visions and/or feelings of just exactly what the beach means to you.
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