Road Trip
It is maybe 1974 and the station wagon is packed with a tent, a cooler, and sleeping bags. We load up into the car. I’m not sure who sat where but I was either in the back seat or the back of the wagon with Pat. The car heads down Spruce, down that steep include. We are excited. Maybe a bit noisy. My dad explodes. Then controls it. Then explains it. We are quiet. For a long while. My next memory is of the campsite. I imagine us pouring out of the station wagon. I remember the ordeal of setting up the tent we would not sleep in it. I remember being sent off to find firewood. I remember the best part being with my brothers. I remember the car always seems to be on the verge of overheating or losing it’s breaks. How my dad would not want to use the brakes when going down the mountain for fear of losing them. How it scared me to death. ...