The Road Trip

as published at The Orange County Register on August 24, 2013:

“Alex, wake up! There are zebras everywhere.”

“Tell them we ran out of Skittles.”

“I did, but they already left the construction site.”

“I don’t like country music either.”

“When are we going to be on ‘Duck Dynasty’ again?”

We go on like this for hours, my daughter and I, submersed in our nonsense talk. On another journey in another location, a desert wanderer may rely on a mirage of an oasis to keep him going. But on hour 17 of driving up the California coast, my daughter keeps me awake at the wheel by chattering about whatever stream of ridiculousness we can conjure.

From the beginning, this summer’s road trip met heavy opposition. When I first presented the idea of driving to my brother’s wedding reception in Washington state, my husband was as encouraging as Judge Judy.

“I can’t take another week off work,” he protested.

“Then I’ll drive the kids myself.”

“22 hours?”

“We’ll break it over 5 days – I’ll take them to see Hearst Castle, Fisherman’s Wharf, the Redwood Forest, it’ll be great!”

“These days, it’d be cheaper to fly,” he argued.

“Yeah right, well… let me check… okay, you’re right. It is cheaper to fly. But then we’d miss out on Hearst Castle, Fisherman’s Wharf, and the Redwood Forest!”

“Without an extra driver, what’ll you do when you get tired?”

“I never get tired.”

I lied. The A/C’s blasting, my eyes are burning, and I’ve pounded two bags of trail mix just to stay in motion. But if we’d copped out and turned to Alaska Airlines, I’d miss out on all this quality time waking up my 13-year-old navigator to banter about jazzercise, stained glass, and Bisquick.

I’d expected my three youngers in the rear to keep our car alive with the kind of squabbling my brothers and I used to indulge in on our road trips, but the invention of iEverything has silenced our back row. While I appreciate their iComas, I have to holler every 15 minutes for them to yank off their earphones and look at the waterfall/cliff/lion seal view they’re sacrificing for their pixelated world. I doubt they’ll ever remember we even went on this trip.

I think back to the annual road trips I used to take with my mom at the wheel (while my dad worked). Cross-country from Memphis to California she’d plow with all eight of us kids strapped into our conversion van. My mom would plot those trips for weeks, mapping out all the exciting landmarks we’d encounter. We’d break the drive over a week, and along the way we’d see the Alamo, the Grand Canyon, the desert! But all I remember is waking up in the passenger seat to find my mom at the wheel with two Red Vines protruding from her ears, and a row of M&M’s balancing between her upper lip and nose as she made monkey faces in the rearview mirror.

“What are you doing?” I’d ask.

“Staying awake.”