Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Now it's not that traveling with Mark is much easier than my parents taking a gaggle of kids. He does tend to over do things, like packing enough crap for two months. But that's his thing. I simply make sure the car runs, has gas, and is supplied with enough music and books on CD's to keep me happy. I also will have to make sure we have motels to stay in that will welcome a ninety pound mutt. Luckily, La Quinta Inns solves that problem.
Traveling as an adult is so different than as a child with my parents, or for that matter when I was nineteen, or twenty. Back then my friends and I would decide on a whim that we wanted to go to California, or a music festival in a swamp in Louisiana, and jump in the car and go. Often with just the clothes on our back. Motels? We didn't need a bed, we would swap off driving, with one snoozing in the back seat. Yes, those were the days. But as much as I think I'd like to be that free again, I remember the smell of a car full of hippies. I'll take La Quinta, and Mark's over packing, thank you.