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Road trips...
Posted by The one and only "B"...
on
12:15 AM
Hello world...
I have never been on a normal road trip. Ever. From the time I was a little kid, to this very day, something always seems to happen. Today's road trip from Denver to Grand Junction wasn't so bad. The only thing that happened was that my dog threw up on me... twice. It could have been worse though.
Every year that my family decides to go on a road trip, something happens. Like the time my grandpa got the RV high-centered on a pole (still don't know how he did that). Or the time he backed into someone's car with the RV (he said it wasn't his fault because they parked their car right behind our RV in the trailer park). I remember that incident like it was yesterday. We were in San Fransisco, and my grandpa insisted that he didn't need help backing out of our spot. So my grandmother and I walked down the lane of the trailer park, which happened to overlook an awesome beach and the ocean. We were standing there, with our backs turned away from the park, staring at the ocean, when we heard the crunch of metal. A few seconds later, we heard the unmistakable sound my grandfather's grumbling voice spewing profanities (not unusual for him). My grandmother didn't look away from the ocean, all she said was, "Don't turn around." I didn't.
The best example was when I was around nine or ten years old. My grandparents and I were on our yearly family RV vacation. At the time, my grandpa was driving a pick up truck, with the trailer attached behind us. We were going down some highway, when we noticed that the exhaust pipe started releasing clouds of black smoke. I remember being in the back seat of the cab, hugging my dog and holding on to my box of toys, continuously asking my grandparents if the truck was on fire. They assured me that it wasn't. So I relaxed a little bit. That is until some guy comes flying down the highway, passes us, then pulls over and jumps out of his car, waving his arms like a lunatic and screaming, "YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU'RE ON FIRE!" Well, that sent me into a panic. I was waiting for the car to blow up, or for the best chance to tuck and roll out of the car at a moments notice... Thirty minutes later, we were getting chased down by fire trucks. The truck wasn't on fire, but we were escorted by the fire department to the nearest car repair shop.
Like I said... Road trips and I? We don't exactly have the best history.
People used to ask us why we would continue to go on family road trips each year. I often wondered the same thing, due to all the incidents we had. If we hadn't though, I wouldn't have been able to see so many amazing things. For that, I am grateful... but it would be nice if I could go on one family vacation without something happening...
I guess I should be grateful that this time it was only dog puke... twice.
Love from,
I really hope nothing happens on our way to Vegas tomorrow...
B
I have never been on a normal road trip. Ever. From the time I was a little kid, to this very day, something always seems to happen. Today's road trip from Denver to Grand Junction wasn't so bad. The only thing that happened was that my dog threw up on me... twice. It could have been worse though.
Every year that my family decides to go on a road trip, something happens. Like the time my grandpa got the RV high-centered on a pole (still don't know how he did that). Or the time he backed into someone's car with the RV (he said it wasn't his fault because they parked their car right behind our RV in the trailer park). I remember that incident like it was yesterday. We were in San Fransisco, and my grandpa insisted that he didn't need help backing out of our spot. So my grandmother and I walked down the lane of the trailer park, which happened to overlook an awesome beach and the ocean. We were standing there, with our backs turned away from the park, staring at the ocean, when we heard the crunch of metal. A few seconds later, we heard the unmistakable sound my grandfather's grumbling voice spewing profanities (not unusual for him). My grandmother didn't look away from the ocean, all she said was, "Don't turn around." I didn't.
The best example was when I was around nine or ten years old. My grandparents and I were on our yearly family RV vacation. At the time, my grandpa was driving a pick up truck, with the trailer attached behind us. We were going down some highway, when we noticed that the exhaust pipe started releasing clouds of black smoke. I remember being in the back seat of the cab, hugging my dog and holding on to my box of toys, continuously asking my grandparents if the truck was on fire. They assured me that it wasn't. So I relaxed a little bit. That is until some guy comes flying down the highway, passes us, then pulls over and jumps out of his car, waving his arms like a lunatic and screaming, "YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU'RE ON FIRE!" Well, that sent me into a panic. I was waiting for the car to blow up, or for the best chance to tuck and roll out of the car at a moments notice... Thirty minutes later, we were getting chased down by fire trucks. The truck wasn't on fire, but we were escorted by the fire department to the nearest car repair shop.
Like I said... Road trips and I? We don't exactly have the best history.
People used to ask us why we would continue to go on family road trips each year. I often wondered the same thing, due to all the incidents we had. If we hadn't though, I wouldn't have been able to see so many amazing things. For that, I am grateful... but it would be nice if I could go on one family vacation without something happening...
I guess I should be grateful that this time it was only dog puke... twice.
Love from,
I really hope nothing happens on our way to Vegas tomorrow...
B
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