We started our cross country odyssey on Thursday. Myself (the driver) and daughter Brett were in the front with maps of fourteen states while grandkids Mike (10) and Anna (9) were stuffed in the back along with four hockey sticks, pillows, and numerous carry-on size bags covering their floor space. All around, driver's seat included, legroom was at a premium.
The entire trip would cover over 3600 miles – 2800 east to west and another 800 covering a north-south detour into northern Minnesota. The starting point was the New Jersey town of Madison. We were rolling west on I 80 by 9 AM.
It was a comfortable beginning, spiked with alertness from gulped caffeine, and all aboard sensing adventure with eager anticipation.
Along about mid morning a disturbance erupted in the back. Anna had constructed a barricade along the border of her seat territory and it appeared that Mike – doubtless from boredom – was launching various attempts at breaking through the fence. The manifestation of the “attack” was twofold, Mike giggling and Anna’s soft whine – a single word repeated incessantly – “Stop!” stretched out as “Stooooooooooooooop!” with a short "o" vowel sound. This lasted for what seemed like Allentown, PA to Pittsburgh.
Near Ohio things settled down. I asked Brett for a reading – “How much longer?” Our destination was Ann Arbor, MI. We are partial to college towns with hockey teams. Five hours into our journey we were barely half way. By this time I was quivering mildly from my constant death grip on the steering wheel coupled with an unfortunate bad night’s sleep the night before.
Regardless, I plodded on.
Near Ohio things settled down. I asked Brett for a reading – “How much longer?” Our destination was Ann Arbor, MI. We are partial to college towns with hockey teams. Five hours into our journey we were barely half way. By this time I was quivering mildly from my constant death grip on the steering wheel coupled with an unfortunate bad night’s sleep the night before.
Regardless, I plodded on.
Ten plus hours from departure we pulled into Ann Arbor. We found a Sheraton near town, then a quick trip to a downtown U of M souvenir shop for hockey shirts where I slumped into a lone plump easy chair amid racks of yellow and blue clothing. I tried to stir occasionally lest a local beat writer spot me and draft a headline, “NJ man succumbs amid hockey tees.”
I survived - revived, in fact, momentarily, an hour later with pasta and wine and the joy of all gathered around the table.
Post-dinner I flopped onto the hotel bed, oblivious to my daughter’s in-room traveling ritual - scouring for bedbugs.
Morning came and feeling refreshed, I considered ever so briefly the hard facts - six-hundred miles down, thirty-two hundred to go. I banished the thought, grabbed the wheel and it was off to Chicago and points west.
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