Border To Border In 32 Hours
or What We Did For Summer Vacation
by Carl Peterson ©2002
Every year my family takes summer vacation to visit family – the grandparents, cousins, great-grandparents, uncles, and aunts. My wife and I are both natives of Washington State, and as strange as it may seem, our parents all still live in the same houses in which we grew up (OK, so one has had a new house built, but it is still the same property and the old house is still there). We spend time in Spokane then head north to the Grandparents’ lake cabin in Northern Idaho (about 55 miles from the Canadian border). Living in southern Arizona (Mexico is closer than Tucson) makes the annual trek somewhat long (between 1500 and 1900 miles, depending on the route we take), and visions of the lake cabin, swimming, games, campfires, S’mores, and sugarplums (oops, wrong season) make the trip seem longer to the anxious kids (actually, my wife is pretty anxious too). So bags are packed, snacks are purchased, books on tape are borrowed from the library, and the car seats are arranged to allow optimal storage and seating.
Gandhi once said that the journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step, but the family car trip of 1500 miles begins with packing. Two weeks before we are to leave, my wife starts having the kids set clothes aside that they will not wear until vacation. On the much-anticipated day of our departure, I still have to work. I leave work a little early so we can pack the car and leave town by 6:00. At 8:00pm we finally finish loading – if packing the suitcases for three girls (my wife counts as one) and a teenage boy were as easy as packing my bag (note the use of the grammatical singular), we could leave on time, but so many things must wait until the last minute (according to my wife) that loading the car has hardly begun when we are supposed to be pulling out of the driveway (she actually said we were on schedule!). On the way out of town we pick up dinner from McDonald’s (the only restaurant ubiquitous along any route at which we know my daughter can get meals consistent with her gluten and preservative intolerant diet) and hope the kids will fall asleep quickly.
Over the years, the routine has changed little, though somehow packing for the return trip does not seem to be as hard, even though we have to do school shopping before returning home, so there is now twice as much stuff as when we left. Fuel stops along the way provide opportunities for such conveniences as flush toilets, hot food (OK, its still McDonald’s, so our definition of food is liberal), and running water, not to mention a time to change drivers or re-circulate blood that has pooled in the driver’s legs. The kids are good travelers and remember to ask only once each for an unscheduled rest stop (enduring agony to the next rest stop or gas station instead of taking an opportunity to observe nature because the urge doesn’t strike them closer than ten miles from a rest stop and they ardently refuse to use the sparse shrubbery – my wife says it’s a girl-thing, but that doesn’t explain my son). Some people might consider me geekish (some of you have been kind enough to mention that even) to know that a nighttime fuel stop through which the kids sleep can be accomplished in 17 minutes (pump fuel, wash windshield, check tires), while daytime stops average 48 minutes. An unscheduled stop might take as long as 35 minutes because each person will in turn decide that they too must use the restroom, though only the requester said so at first. Incorporating these breaks into the travel time results in average speeds for the trip between 55 and 63 miles per hour (depending on the quantity of breaks, stops, meals, and construction zones).
Routes affect the time, mileage, and scenery, not to mention road hazards. In California we have endured dense fog that reduced visibility to less than a car length. We have weaved down the highway through the Great Basin Desert of Nevada, dodging large rabbits (sometimes not very successfully). We have stopped for car wrecks in Oregon, Washington, California, and Arizona. And we have made the interesting discovery that there are very few McDonald’s restaurants (or gas stations) in eastern Nevada, but the route is shorter. On our latest trip, we stopped to visit the Great Basin National Park, home of the oldest trees in North America (the Bristlecone Pine). We learned about the Pony Express routes through Nevada. We explored westward migration and settlements using an article and map from the National Geographic to locate the trails as we crossed them. And, despite thorough planning, we made a couple of unscheduled stops to stretch our legs and take in the scenery (we even worked it out so those occurred during daylight hours). Even including these stops, planned or not, we made the return in 29 hours (it was a much shorter route and only three meal stops - did I mention there weren’t many McDonald’s in eastern Nevada). Yes, there is something to be said for adventures in which detours and unscheduled stops to buy socks are sought with anticipation, but for me, a well planned trip can have as much excitement. My kids will know all of the western states through first-hand experience before they graduate from High School. My family can spend quality time at each of our destinations. And I can exercise skills as close to wizardry as I can get, squeezing our worldly possessions into the back of a minivan. So planned or unplanned, trips along our American highways (or choose another country if you like) provide relaxation and enjoyment for the adventurous spirit in each of us.
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