The future road trip

In just three more nights, not counting the one when I am leaving, I will be on the longest road trip I have ever taken in my life. Let me think about that . . . yes, it is the longest. From my little town in Oregon to New York City. The last longish road trip I took was with members of my family twenty-five years ago, driving back from Rochester, Minnesota to my little town.

That journey was awful, considering both of my feet were in plasters that went up to right below the knees, and they weren't walking casts either. I could not walk with crutches, my lack of equilibrium has never permitted that, not even when I was a child. So I could not use the rest areas on the way (a blessing in disguise, especially for women, when we think about it), and anywhere we stopped for the night, I think one of my brothers had to carry me from the car to a wheelchair, or to the room (I can tell you right now, it was not my youngest brother). We had to stop on the side of the road on the first day of the drive because I had to vomit - and I have not done that on a road trip since my pre-teen days. It was the still the effect of that Demerol, perhaps. For years I thought I was allergic to Demerol until I was told that just because it made me violently sick did not mean I was allergic to it. Doctors know best!

It would have been a more enjoyable road trip in parts if both of my brothers had not been in the same car, even separate ones. One way to tell how different my brothers are in temperament and personality is to put both of them in the same car together. There is a little over three years difference between my eldest brother and the youngest one, the baby in the family. The former was more careful, drove more carefully and responsibly, did not go over the speed limit most of the time which drove the latter nuts.
Youngest brother, on the other hand, was a little more reckless, and as a speed demon did not always read the black and white signs, which put the "more mature" one on edge. It made for some very tense moments during a very long trip, especially by the time we were somewhere around Montana, when the elder one finally decided to give the younger one a piece of his mind. What followed was, well can you say silence so tense, a huge rock could not break it?

Needless to say that has never happened again. The last time was the summer before our kid brother's senior year in high school. His driving habits have not changed, if anything, they are sometimes worse. And even if I was in the car with him, on the icy I-84, somewhere between Boise and Portland, that gloomy afternoon when the car slid, whirled around wildly to where I thought our lives were going to end, and got us in the bloody median ditch, I would still rather be on lengthy road trips with youngest brother.

This road trip I am going on is with a busload of strangers, no one with whom I plan to break bread, or share a bottle of Ten High - unless I wanted to be dumped on the side of the road in a deserted place like Cary Grant in "North by Northwest". It is not going to be like "Easy Rider", or "Magical Mystery Tour", although I am going to go a little more grunge (either way on a two and a half day road trip with no motel stops, I am going to be grungy), and try to put all those prejudices aside - the ones about driving through Wyoming especially - thus opening myself up to magic and mystery.

Until then, I still have to figure out what to pack, which considering the minimalist way I prefer to travel, is not going to be much, but this time may have to be an exception, since I have to dress a little nicer than usual for the special occasion. It is not going to be like it was when I was little, and his parents had gotten married. For some reason, the reception was next door, and I had not dressed up for it. I looked like Pig Pen with my hair disheveled, my plaid patterned frock, and dirt filled bare feet when I peeked in the neighbor's back lawn to see what was happening. Maamoo and Aunty saw me, and beckoned to me to sit next to them.

I looked at myself and shook my head, but I saw the love and smiles on their faces. They did not care if I was worse than Raggedy Ann. I shyly and somewhat ashamedly walked through the lawn, past the well-dressed guests, and sat on the sofa between my uncle and aunt, much to the horror, later on, of my family.

I relived that memory with Maamoo and Aunty the last time I saw them, nine years ago, and while they did not recall it as well as I did, there was that smile of recognition on Maamoo's face, that very same smile all those years ago.

Here's to them, and to the really long road trip!