I drove to St. Louis yesterday. It took 4 hours. Now, you might be like, “Ho-hum…” because I live in a van half the time, but this was remarkable, for the following reasons. I, contrary to popular opinion, am not a skilled driver.
I didn’t get my license till I was 21, and that was after 2 failed attempts. (Curse you, parallel parking). I am competent now, and if I have my GPS I can make it out of my driveway without calling the MOG, but I prefer to keep it in a 15 mile radius or so.
Also, I have never driven more than 2.5 or 3 hours, even on multiple family trips to Texas, and that was only because the other driver in my car warned me that if someone else did not drive, he was at risk of steering us into a nearby 18 wheeler. (I did that once, accidentally, and lived to tell the tale, but some are not so brave)
Third, I have 3 children. Some of you have 10, 12, 144 children and you take them all everywhere and they have matching denim jumpers and they mind. I don’t have any of those. I have pretty good travelers, but they need a lot of fueling. Some kids watch DVDs on roadtrips. Mine eat. It makes sense, apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and all that. Yesterday I had pre-made baggies of popcorn, which I tossed wildly behind me and hit people 3 out of 5 times, so, success. Other than that, we had long periods of book reading, interrupted occasionally by baby cussing.
Anyway, all that to say we made it. 1 drive-through lunch, and 2 I’m-pulling-this-car-overs, which is fantastic for 4 hours. I feel a great sense of accomplishment, which all the guys around here who regularly drive 15 hours in the mountains in the dark are not impressed by. I also feel hungry, which all the guys who are on the 3rd day of a fast are not impressed by. I also feel concerned, grammatically, about by use of “by” at the end of those sentences.
Stay tuned for this kind of hard-hitting narcissist documenting!