Automobile Anecdotes...

When I was growing up, my family had a couple of go-to vacations that we tended to repeat. Beach trips to Ocean City, Maryland (which surely contributed to my deep-seated love for sea, sand, and sun). Visits to my mom's relatives in middle-of-nowhere Kentucky (and if you don't think THAT was a fabulous 16-hour car ride...you're absolutely right...). And we were sooo fortunate to have an excuse to trek to "the most magical place on Earth"-- aka "Mickey Land"...um "Disneyworld"--due to the proximity (ish) of a great aunt and uncle who conveniently retired to Florida and provided a stopping-off point a couple of hours away from the park. All of which made for many fond memories of childhood fun.

But when I became an adult, it slowly began to dawn on me that perhaps I'd inherited some kind of, I don't know, recessive....wanderlust gene. So I started traveling when I could--returning to Vero Beach for highly entertaining interludes with the great aunt, treating myself to a European fortnight as a reward for prevailing through my grueling graduate program, and finally driving to all corners of the country (and occasionally over the border to Canada, for some...international variety) when I had a real job (with Summers off--yay, 10-month public school calendar).

Luckily, Boyfriend-Who-Became-Husband seemed to share the same explorer's trait, and therefore was on board with the whole "mega road trip" notion from the beginning. So the two of us meandered out to Colorado to visit friends (transplanted from his childhood home of Pittsburgh--go figure). And for our honeymoon, we motored around Ireland (figuring out how to navigate the "wrong side" of the narrow, winding roads...while also dodging sheep...and ginormous tour buses. Dear Heaven Above, I'm still amazed we survived...). Then there was the first, fateful excursion to San Francisco (also bunking with former 'burghers. What is it with these wild bands of...roving Steel City denizens? Or what have you...).

As for the yearly getaways enjoyed by Team WestEnders, they've been well chronicled right here, since our inaugural vacay in 2009, when we elected to kick off the whole shebang with...Uncle Walt's Playground. (Okay, okay, "Disneyworld". Sheesh!) So, you might be wondering through this rambling epistle...why all the sudden nostalgia? Well, because this year, Husband chose an anniversary card that talks about our "life's journey"--which normally would cause me to perhaps roll my eyes and gag just a little since we're generally NOT about the schmaltzy Hallmark moments in this house. But he saved it from drowning in an excess of syrupy sentiment (and himself from getting a merciless mocking from the dinner table squad) by writing in just a couple of the notable destinations...or in some cases, more like "pit stops"...along our path....all of which had been awarded a place among our collected WestEnders Lore immediately following the experiences.

Without further ado, here are their stories:
Johnsonville, PA: this one is actually JohnsonBURG, but it's totally understandable that he muffed the name because A) the commercials all over TV for the damn sausage manufacturer and B) it was a completely unmemorable one-gas-station "town", all alone in the central-Pennsylvanian wilderness. In short, the four of us were on the way to Cooperstown, NY, navigating small state highways...and ready for lunch. As we traversed mile after mile of nothingness, with 11 and 8-year old boys becoming increasingly ravenous and disgruntled, we suddenly came upon...well, a dot that actually showed up on the map, at least. (That's right, a paper version. 'Cuz lemme tell ya, we had ZERO bars of cell service out there, my friend...) Hooray, we were saved! Um...yeeeahhh...not so much: we ended up getting sandwiches....from the Subway counter located inside the aforementioned lone fuel outpost. Lesson learned? When tackling the Keystone State, plan ahead, and pack lots more snacks! (No photo evidence...obvs...)

Prairie Dog Town, KS: Have you ever driven across the middle of the U.S. on Interstate 70? If so, you know where I'm going with this--and if not...I wouldn't recommend it, folks. Let's just say...there's a LOT of...corn. Some wheat. A couple of sunflowers. But it's the "Great Plains", right? Suuuure...and by that, they must mean "super-flat"...plus "mind-numbingly boring". But if you're silly (or maybe it was "frugal"? Sure, we'll go with that...) enough to be covering the distance between the East Coast and Colorado by automobile, rather than airplane, you kind of don't have a choice. Which is why, after who knows how many hours of tedium, Husband couldn't resist pulling over to check out a...roadside attraction...he saw advertised on one of the few billboards we'd passed.

I recall being less-than-enthused--I might have said (shouted) something along the lines of "Prairie dogs, who cares? They're the Midwestern equivalent of SQUIRRELS, for crying out loud!" But he was not to be deterred. Even when the "special exhibits" included creatures such as a 5-legged calf...clearly the result of a horrible birth defect, and therefore both heartbreaking and revolting. For yeeearrrrs, every time he made a questionable suggestion for an activity or location we should try, I only had to invoke three words to shut it down immediately: Prairie. Dog. Town.

Newton, IA: Honestly, another one from that SAME TRIP that plunged Husband into hot water, so he must figure that the statute of limitations has passed by now. You see, on the way back towards civilization--I mean "Maryland"--we planned to stop in Chicago for some baseball (naturally). But first we had to cover a whole bunch of miles; thus we set out for a long day on the road, with the goal being to get as far as we could before stopping for the night. After many hours of chugging along, we found ourselves becoming weary, and began looking for signs indicating a suitable hotel. Lo and behold, at that moment we realized we'd almost made it to Des Moines, which as the capital, would surely meet our modest hospitality needs. As we approached the off-ramp, however, Husband spoke the calamitous words that have haunted us to this day, "Des Moines is a major city, so I'm sure there's more than one exit. Why don't we try to get to the far side before we stop...so we can avoid traffic in the morning."

Holy "are you freakin' kidding me, Batman"? Even at the time, I'm positive that I must have turned and gaped at him in disbelief as I sputtered something along the lines of, "I mean, have you even been paying attention? Have you noticed many bustling metropolis...es (metropoli? whatever...) in this part of the country? And what in the name of all things holy do you think you're going to run into tomorrow...farmers moving their cattle across the street to another field?  I know it's been an endless slog today, but in case you've somehow forgotten, We're. In. I-O-W-A, dude!" In short, I was not...best pleased...by his decision--especially when it turned out to be (you guessed it) the ONLY opportunity...to take advantage of all the special things Des Moines might have to offer.

As we whizzed past the marker, leaving behind the welcoming lights of town, we faced nothing ahead of us but blank space as far as the eye could see. So we kept going...and going...as it grew later...and then earlier...until finally we stumbled upon good old Newton. Even then, it seemed like other people had fallen into the same trap, because we stopped several times to inquire about "room at the inn", only to encounter people already lined up at the front desk ahead of us, and no vacancies to be had. Finally--if I remember correctly it was attempt #3--Husband determinedly departed the vehicle and vowed that he wouldn't return without a key, come hell or high water. I waved him off without much hope at this point, as it was oh, approximately 3 a.m.

A few minutes later, after reportedly waiting in yet another queue (seriously, the inexplicable crowds of...tourists?...in the dead of night...in Iowa...remain an unsolvable mystery to this very day) he marched back triumphantly, waving the promised golden ticket to unlock a much-needed bed. He also mentioned that the clerk had tried to extort an outrageous amount of money from him, (which was probably like 100 bucks--this was the '90s, after all...in--I just can't stress this enough--Newton, Iowa) until he'd retorted, "We're on a tight schedule--we're just going to take a NAP!" and suddenly got a discount for his mild outrage. But the final, unforgettable piece of this ridiculous tale came when we entered our chamber, intent upon maximizing our precious window of snooze time...and instantly noticed the mirrored ceiling over the bed. Yep...nothing but the classiest digs for us, y'all...

Winchester, VA: This was one of the few field trips with the boys that didn't quite work out as expected. I wanted to take an overnight foray to somewhere fairly close that we hadn't been before, and my research made Winchester seem like it had both a quaint town to stroll around in, and some history, in the form of a battlefield we could wander. As it happened, the date of our chosen expedition was frigid--as in, biting wind and sub-zero temps, making it thoroughly miserable to be outside. Plus, the alleged Civil War site consisted of: a large, empty plot of land. No helpful historical plaques. No cannons. Nada. On top of that, Riley had a bit of a cough, which hadn't seemed worrisome at the outset, but which appeared to worsen throughout our explorations during the day. (Side note: he'd actually be diagnosed with bronchitis when we got home. Soooo much Mom Guilt over that, for a long time to come....)

So, after we'd exhausted our options for amusement in the disappointing town of Winchester, I wracked my brains trying to figure out how to salvage even one nice thing out of our weekend. And then I noticed the movie theater right next to our hotel...which being a "drafthouse" type operation, was something the boys had never experienced. Even better, they were showing (wait for it) Frozen, a film none of us had yet seen. When I suggested to the 12 and 9 year-olds that we take in a princess flick, they were indignant--until I revealed that there would be FOOD involved, at which time they reluctantly agreed to tough it out.

And you know what? To this day, they disparage Winchester as one of the worst places they've ever been (ahem...dramatic exaggeration being a characteristic they might have received from yours truly...) but also list Frozen among their favorite Disney offerings of all time.  In fact, Derek admitted to me just the other day that--with the sequel coming out around Thanksgiving--he looked up the distance from Chapel Hill to...Winchester....to see if if would be feasible for us to drive there and recreate the whole scenario! (Sadly, it's too far...but I also did a little Googling, and it turns out that there's an Alamo Drafthouse in Raleigh, so it just may happen...with a better neighborhood...and hopefully no contagious diseases!)

And finally, Santa Rosa, CA: Next to this one, Husband wrote "aka 'The Hood'", which is what the Male Trio took to calling it when we went on our reconnaissance mission to Northern Cali in 2013. You see, at the time I was intent on relocating us out there, to the consternation of pretty much everyone else in the nuclear and extended clan alike. So they were scrounging for any excuse to find the area unacceptable, even if they had to invent reasons with little or no basis in fact, like "high-crime" or "bad schools". Never mind that we had a delightful time--hiking, playing in state parks, trekking all over San Francisco--they refused to thoroughly let their guard down and embrace the Left Coast while under the threat of having to actually, you know, "become Californians". I suspect they look back upon it much more favorably now that we're safely ensconced in North Carolina...and Derek still wears his Alcatraz Swim and Dive Team souvenir t-shirt, staunchly resisting my gentle suggestions that he discard it, the more faded and threadbare it becomes.

Whew! There you have it: a lengthy and convoluted amble down Memory Lane, pausing at just a few of the highlights, and brought to you by Team WestEnders, gallivanting and creating yarns that no one could make up...since 1995. Stay tuned....we're not inclined to stay put, so surely there'll be more...stuff and nonsense...to come!