Spring-break family vacations, lead to memories of road trips

I so enjoyed this spring break. I don’t think I’m alone. All the lit classes I’m taking seemed to be bubbling up in a weird  frenzy until I felt dizzy.

So, I decided to take the family to San Antonio for a few days. We  didn’t intend to stay the whole week or anything, but it was fun.

We hired a housesitter for the pets and booked the place we stayed. I thought it sounded fun the moment I began planning.

I’m sure that’s what my parents thought the year they decided to go to Memphis. Elvis, barbecue, jazz music.

Sounds fun, right? Did I mention we were going in July in a station wagon with no air conditioning and vinyl seats with three whiny kids? I was the oldest at the ancient age of 12, and my sisters were 7 and 5.

I look back now and I wonder: What were they thinking?

Springdale, Ark. to Memphis is a loooong way. It only took about 30 minutes for my sisters and me to start fighting in the back seat. I think it started with an “innocent” game of Cadillac Whack. Ever heard of it?

If you’ve ever heard of Slug Bug or Mustang Bang, it’s the rough equivalent. For some reason the whacks, slugs, and bangs got increasingly harder until some wimp started crying. This would spur the angry refrain from my father,

“DO NOT MAKE ME PULL THIS CAR OVER!”

He and my mom were having their own issues in the front seat. They got into about six fights from the front yard to the second stoplight outside of town.

Neither my mom nor my dad could tell directions very well, and even with a map we usually got lost a couple of times. Remember this was pre-GPS.

If my mom was in a good mood, she’d just breezily say, “Oh, look kids! DAD is taking us on an adventure!” If she was in a bad mood, which set in roughly around Little Rock, it would sound more like, “Look kids, your $%#! Daddy never learned to read!”

Ah, the good old days.

When we finally got back on track, we all were starving. Mom’s plan of saving money by making sandwiches instead of eating out didn’t work out so well.

Someone sat on the bread, so it was in one unappetizing clump. And nobody was really in the mood for slimy boloney sandwiches with processed-cheese product and off-brand cheese twists. I tried to tell her.

After a severe reprimand peppered with curse words that would embarrass a sailor, we all grudgingly ate our smushed bologna sandwiches, and then we were back on the road again.

About fifteen minutes later, my sister barfed. My dad, who usually had a rule, “WE ARE NOT STOPPING FOR ANYTHING,” swerved to a screeching halt by the side of the road faster than you can say processed-cheese product. It wasn’t pretty.

Oh, and did I mention Mom and Dad decided to save money by camping instead of getting a hotel room? Yeah, that went really well. Ever seen a mosquito in Memphis? It’s the size of my son’s parakeet. I swear it’s true.

And because we didn’t have cots and they didn’t really have air mattresses back then, my parents bought these cheap swim-raft things at the dollar store we had to blow up ourselves. After a few minutes of that, I felt sort of lightheaded and unable to speak. Maybe that was the point.

At various times during the night, the mattresses would pop, scaring the crap out of us.  I had never been to a city as big as Memphis before, and I just knew we were victims of gang violence. What idiotic gang would seek us out in the tick-ridden KOA camp, I don’t know.

I guess I watched too many reruns of “West Side Story.” Each time a mattress would pop jarring us out of any fitful rest, we were able to snatch. This was quite a feat in itself due to my sister’s talking in her sleep, my mom’s snoring, and the humidity that clung to us like mud to a pig.

And we were already in such great moods to begin with. Right before we left, my sister in an effort to prove to me she was a “real” camper used a handful of leaves as toilet paper.  Bet you know what kind.

I never could prove it, but I think this trip contributed directly to my parents’ divorce ten years later. No, that would have been the Orlando trip.

Maybe my family should have stayed home and watched “American Idol” instead.