Oz ,'Storyteller'
[NAFDA] "There will be an occasional happy, so that it might be crushed under the boot of the writer." From Zorro to Angel (including Wonderfalls and The Inside), this is where Buffistas come to anoint themselves in the bloodbath.
I've never been able to read without getting carsick, unfortunately. Though far worse was the reverse seat in the back of the station wagon. Makes me nauseated just thinking about.
I could read in the car or on a train. I could ride backwards in the car or on a train. My mother never could. And after years of her saying, "I could never do that, I would feel so nauseated," I started feeling nauseated.
5 kids in one station wagon=lots of shoving, fighting and whining
Dude. 10 kids in a camper van. (And that's just 10 at any one time while I was still living with my parents. The count eventually got up to 15.)
Dude. 10 kids in a camper van. (And that's just 10 at any one time while I was still living with my parents. The count eventually got up to 15.)
There is no way I would have survived this. None. I'd have escaped at a rest area, picked up by some shady character and sold into child slavery.
We reenacted every Three Stooges film we'd ever seen.
This would just give me further impetus to escape, I'm afraid.
We always took driving vacations when I was a kid, but we had an RV so my brother and I weren't forced to sit next to each other or sit in one place for long (this is way before the seatbelt rules). Although there is one memorable trip in which my dad got a ticket for playing Battleship with my brother and I while he was driving.
When I was really little, my family used to drive back and forth to Florida a lot. I don't really remember those but that's probably just as well.
I do have vivid memories of going on short day-trips with my mom, stepdad and siblings. Mostly because 2 adults + 4 kids + 1 Honda Civic Hatchback = me and my stepsister in the trunk of the car. I never arrived anywhere without a headache from banging my head on the roof.
My worst childhood travel memories are of the times spent trying to sleep on hot nights in the camper, listening to my dad snoring and people coming and going at the wayside where my dad decided to stop for the night.
Sometimes there were mosquitoes, so we'd burn these spiral-shaped thingies to keep them away.
We sang a lot, too.
I never sing with my children. *is sad*
We sang on long trips too.