Gentle Reader, my child is a human pratfall whose very existence is chock full of frequent, unintentional slapstick. Every day is a new, embarrassing installment of “looking back, years from now, this’ll be hilarious”.
It’s like I gave birth to both Lucy and Ethel.
And it’s never more on display than when The Kid is on a road trip.
In college, our little scholar snagged an internship at the Ritz-Carlton at Half Moon Bay, California, about thirty miles south of San Francisco. The child decided to drive.
Across the country.
Alone.
So, in the days it took to make the trip, I barely moved away from the phone (still only have a landline).
And, one day, THAT phone call came.
The car had blown a tire, in the middle of Texas, in a desert, miles from anything or anybody. The force of it had also cracked a rear fender. Luckily, The Kid had the presence of mind to call AAA for assistance before calling home.
My heart broke for The Kid. And at the sound of my voice, my child, all alone with a damaged car, broke down. I promised I would stay on the phone until help arrived. We were only on the phone for a few minutes until the call ended abruptly.
It seems the spot where the poor thing was standing happened to be a fire ant hill.
Eventually, tire was replaced, duct tape was procured for fender, ants were washed off, cortisone applied, and road trip resumed.
Later in the trip, a bungee cord replaced the failing tape.
And until the day the car was sold, the fender was held together with an industrial-strength bungee cord.
We decided it was time to pony up for a GPS when late one night on another trip, The Kid got so totally turned around in West Virginia that a mountain tunnel was traversed five times in one very confused hour.
After the last trip through, my little Marco Polo got directions—from the very serious Homeland Security agent that stopped the car.
Red flags had been raised when cameras picked up the multiple tunnel trips in the middle of the night. Travel was resumed after The Kid promised to never use the tunnel again.
Then there was that time when the recent college graduate decided to travel to Ireland—in January. Why you ask, Gentle Reader would any human travel to Ireland in the chill of January?
Because plane tickets to the Emerald Isle in January are about fourteen dollars apiece; because nobody, even Hibernophiles and native Irishmen want to be there then.
The Ireland portion of the trip went well. But to get the slashed airfare, one had to fly out of Boston. So, The Kid had to make the drive home, from Boston, In January.
Petey was very ill in Duke hospital at the time, each day a new life or death struggle. And fittingly, a nor’easter was approaching the northern US Atlantic coast bringing feet of snow in its wake.
So yeah, I was in a very Zen state of mind.
The Kid’s plane touched down with the storm bearing down on Boston. My child jumped in the car and headed South.
With a storm in the rearview.
Literally, on the drive home it was like an Indiana Jones movie where a lava flow is following close behind our hero. Only instead of lava, it was a wall of snow chasing my child down I-95. The Kid pulled in the driveway, along with a snowstorm that dumped a foot of snow on the Triangle.
The storm had made the trip hanging off that darn bungee cord.
Thanks for your time.
Contact me at d@bullcity.mom.
‘Tis the season for road trips. I enjoy traveling to new and interesting places or well-loved homes away from home. But I really hate flying these days; it’s unpleasant in a multitude of ways. And, I’m not great sitting in cars for long stretches, but I’m working on that.
But, for me, being there makes my body anxious and cranky. Unfamiliar water makes my skin break out. It’s almost impossible to get a good night’s sleep. And, after a few days, my body starts to rebel if I’m not eating right.
My goal is to have a balance of carbs for energy, protein to keep me feeling full longer, and healthy fats, with fruits, veggies, and whole grains to keep my engine from seizing up. I want as flavorful and nutritious bang for my caloric buck as possible.
Those pre-packed snack boxes have the right idea, but usually are full of sugars, sodium, unnecessary fats, and chemicals. When it’s packed at home, it can be tailored to your own tastes. Mix something like semi-hard cheese, whole grain crackers, a hard-cooked egg, some grape tomatoes, and dried blueberries.
At Mickey D’s, breakfast is now served all day. The oatmeal is around 300 calories if you get it made without dairy; which is often just a container of their coffee creamer dumped in. There are whole grains, fresh apples, and dried fruit. The yogurt parfait is also a not horrible bite. It’s only 210 calories and has fresh berries and low-fat granola.
Sheetz, with their War and Peace-sized, fully customizable menu can also be an option. Their breads include whole-grain options, the meat can be grilled, and they have crispy greens to dress them. I made a tasty loaded rice and bean bowl with vegetables and guacamole for only 300 calories. You can build a salad for yourself—just ask for the dressing on the side.
Panera’s showing up along many highways, and they have a commitment to providing clean healthy food. Their green passion smoothie is 200 calories and full of fresh fruit and greens. They’ve introduced a new spinach salad full of good stuff that is very similar to their old spinach salad which I loved and have sorely missed.
*The title is a song from that classic road trip film, The Muppet Movie.
You know it’s been a heck of a weekend if, on Sunday night, you’re craving a salad and a shower.
Saturday night was the inaugural Big Easy Bash. It was held in a town near Greenville which is undergoing a kind of renaissance, Traveler’s Rest (is that a cute name for a little town, or what?). It was a celebration of all things New Orleans.
We were lucky enough to have a VIP ticket. It conferred upon us exclusive events, early admissions, and entry to the VIP lounge.
I’m a fan of Walgreens because of two things.
It’s a treasure hunt under florescent lights. The other day when I was in they had fancy little Batman and Superman 8 GB flash drives. Each was nine dollars and the size of a hushpuppy.
The “equipment” turned out to be a 5 GB hard drive. That’s almost 50% less capacity than the superhero drives at Walgreens.
I, and every kid I knew rode in the back seat of a car that didn’t even have seat belts, let alone anchored, padded, car seats made of space age polymers. We rattled around station wagons like BB’s in a Pringles can. My folks had a VW bug, and when the car was filled with riders, they’d fold me into the little cubby behind the back seat—right above the engine. I often rode in the same spot in our next car, a pinto; which was eventually recalled due to fiery explosions that occurred when the rear bumper was tapped.
Pill box hats, 15 cent Cokes, and Captain Kangaroo have all gone away, and that’s a crying shame. But some disappearances are nothing but good.
Thanks for your time.
bull city mom 