The Last Magic Road Trip
Many people relax at a beach or mountain resort during annual vacations. I drive long distances with my kids, chasing a moment to really remember.
We do not take a trip; a trip takes us.
— John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America, 1961
This is Part 1 of two parts.
It is almost dark as Dad drives the station wagon over the Texas border into Arkansas. We are on our annual long summer journey to visit relatives in Maryland and Pennsylvania. Why can’t we fly in a plane? I think. This is 1970, before most kids own a cell phone and portable DVD player, before even Sony Walkmans and Apple iPods. I can only read a map, observe the highway sights, and play the alphabet game using signs for so long.
So I do the remaining thing that makes sense to a bored boy. I tease my younger sister and brother. “In Arkansas, you have to be really careful,” I solemnly tell them. “There are ghosts and goblins and……..CRICKETS there.” Kathy, in particular, loathes crickets almost as much as spiders.
“Daddy! Mommy! Kevin says there are ghosts and CRICKETS in Arkansas. Is that true?” Kathy pleads.
