Monday, August 1, 2011

Dog Days of Summer

There, I told myself, the car is all packed and tied up neatly as a Christmas present. I had dragged all the bags out front, and carefully loaded them into the PT Cruiser for our trip to Chicago. Three bags for Mark, one for the laptop computer, another bag with all the dog paraphernalia, various other shopping bags filled with stuff Mark had deemed necessary, and my single bag. Every possible nook and cranny was used. The back seat floor, all the door pockets, and the cargo area couldn’t hold another piece. The front seat was all clean and neat, and the back seat was all set up for Chandler and Sasha. Mark had bought a special sling contraption for the dogs that tied to the front seats, and around the head rests of the back seat. The purpose was to keep the dogs off the floor, and out of the front seats.

One minute into the trip and Sasha has figured out how to unzip the dog barrier that was to keep her in the back. She has flopped herself across the armrests, and is worming her way forward. I take my left arm, and move her back. “Stay!” I yell. She doesn’t. This goes on for at least twenty more occurrences. Fifteen minutes into the trip, Sasha is curled up on my lap sleeping soundly where she will stay for hours. Thankfully, Chandler is stretched out in the back seat also sound asleep. Not even Mark’s screams of terror as huge trucks pass him, can awake the dogs.

I can’t imagine what it was like for my mom and dad on those summer trips. Five, six, seven kids, and a baby in the car, screaming, and fighting, begging for dad to stop at Stuckey’s for a free pecan log. All the luggage stacked on top of the car, and inside, sticky, whiny, smelly kids. It’s a miracle dad didn’t drive off the road and kill us all. All I have is Mark, and two dogs. I’ve already blown up twice, cursing my decision to do this again. Within two hours the car is strewn with sticky snack bags, and candy wrappers. The back seat is covered in dog hair. The dog sling is bunched up in a ball on the seat, and dog treat crumbs have migrated up to the front seat. All my careful packing, and cleaning is for naught. I now have a new found respect for my dad as my legs go numb while Sasha snores quietly on my lap.

8 comments:

  1. Sounds like an episode of I Love Lucy on the way to California. Good job Fred...

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  2. I remember trips where we were crammed in the car, on the floor in the backseat, on the back ledge of the back window. All quiet and sleeping. Somehow I think the fear of Dad kept us quiet!. But we also only went to Bass Lake or somewhere in Wisconsin.

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  3. Just what I remember also Sue! Most of the fights were over window seats, especially since there was no air conditioning. The power was to have control of the window crank! There were no seatbelts in the station wagons and baby carseats were used just to raise the kid up to see out the window. It's amazing that we are all alive! (And I don't believe any of us ever curled up on Dad's lap to sleep!)

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  4. I never went many places in cars when I was a kid because I would throw up all the time from car sickness and from my mom's boyfriends smoking with all the windows up.

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  5. Will you please, please, please take videos of Mark driving, please???

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  6. jacklynn4, Sadly Mark has given me strict orders that NO video of him driving is to be posted. He still has the set of butcher knives I gave him fourteen years ago, so I'll obey. Wouldn't want to be Bobbited.

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  7. So that is how you two have stayed together for so long. hmmmmm....

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  8. Good grief, reminds me of all the traveling summers of my childhood!!! Wonderful tale...dysfunctional memories!

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