Total Pageviews

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

The Trip and the Chair(s)

We rested a spell after lunch in Monterey, VA (on our way to Snowshoe Mountain, WV). We found a big old porch with a few rocking chairs to kick back on while the Bubs finished his ice cream cone. The porch belonged to the Highland Inn, established in 1904 (a.k.a. Hotel Monterey).

The Bubs enjoyed hanging out with his cousin, Gavin, during the trip. Gavin was quick with his iPhone, for playing the Youtube videos on demand, when the Bubs was not able to handle his time strapped in a car seat. We kept the driving distances under  4 to 5 hours each day and made multiple stops as well. No two-year old should have to endure such torture and no parent should have to endure the two-year-old's lack of endurance.

I remember my childhood in the car on many, many road trips with my mother. When our home dwindled down to just the two of us, she would take me on many trips with her. We took trips to far away friends homes and we went on many trips to my grandmother's home. We also drove to the meeting point where my parents exchanged me for weekend visits with the other. The passenger seat became my bed on many trips, as well as my dining room chair and my living room rocking chair. Driving long distances became part of my DNA.

When my wife asked me to if she could take over the driving (about 30 minutes before we stopped for lunch in Monterey), I resisted. However, there was really no debating the issue since we were driving through windy mountain roads and her pregnancy was making her car sick. She needed to take over the wheel as we navigated through the Shenandoah Mountains to keep her stomach at bay. She drove us to Monterey.

The hotel's porch was old, but solid. The rocking chairs didn't squeak either. I enjoyed watching the Bubs try out all the chairs on the porch. There must have been 5 or 6 rocking chairs, a chaise lounge and a few bench seats. The breeze felt nice. I noticed the Bubs finished his ice cream, because he was dipping his fingers into the decimated cone and into the melted ice cream remains. It was time to get back on the road and finish our last leg to Snowshoe Mountain.

To my surprise, my wife again took control of the driver's seat. I said nothing and sat down in the passenger seat - just like 30 years earlier.

No comments:

Post a Comment

(function(i,s,o,g,r,a,m){i['GoogleAnalyticsObject']=r;i[r]=i[r]||function(){ (i[r].q=i[r].q||[]).push(arguments)},i[r].l=1*new Date();a=s.createElement(o), m=s.getElementsByTagName(o)[0];a.async=1;a.src=g;m.parentNode.insertBefore(a,m) })(window,document,'script','//','ga'); ga('create', 'UA-48560039-1', ''); ga('send', 'pageview');