Vacations are filled with much anticipation of where we are going and just exactly what we will see once we get there. Are we there yet? How much farther do we have to go? Why do we have to go see Aunt Bertha? Her house smells like mothballs?
I remember when I was a child, going to Oklahoma to visit family members I had never met before, nor would ever see again. One relative, let’s just call him an uncle, was heading out to the storm cellar (root cellar) and I wanted to tag along. He said an abrupt no to me and told me that he had important business to attend to. I found out that he was attending to the business of moonshine. Oklahoma was a dry state at that time, and I’m not referring to the Dust Bowl either.
While there, my Mom and I were driving around the countryside in my Grandpa’s car when suddenly a policeman flipped on his lights and had us pull over to the side of the road. He was only stopping us to let us know that we had a taillight that was not working. Fortunately for us, he did not see the open container of whiskey that Grandpa had stored in the glove box. I don’t think any gloves were ever stored inside those compartments.
Detours, flat tires, overheated radiators, and other calamities most often haunt the families that hit our nation’s highways in search of peace and tranquility. Countless no-vacancy signs at motels also await the weary traveler, as he heads to a one- or two-week paradise destination. Once arriving at their much anticipated point of pleasure, most often they are met with higher-than-expected prices, large crowds, bad food, and unfriendly natives. Oh, how grateful we are to be able to get away from it all and just relax for a spell. No phones, no bosses, no headaches caused by life’s demands.
Contact Raymond L. Snoke at firstname.lastname@example.org.