Are we there yet?

 

For some, a summer tradition means all-whites and strawberries and cream at Wimbledon. For others, it’s the array of colorful wildflowers decorating the natural landscape. And yet for others, the summer tradition is a Road Trip.

From Homer’s “The Odyssey” to Kerouac’s “On the Road” the road trip has been of considerable interest. Yes, it’s ironic that Odysseus ended up on an odyssey. Yes, the only people for Sal Paradise were “the mad ones”. But maybe Sal would have found plenty of madness if he only shoved a couple of kids into the backseat?

Yet neither the epic poem nor the novel can capture the true essence of a summer Road Trip. For that we need Hollywood and the writer John Hughes to give us “National Lampoon’s Vacation”. There is too much truth in the film to recount here but I will only say that Aunt Edna dies and her corpse rides atop the roof of the station wagon for a good stint. Ah, the open road.

Yes, the summer Road Trip is a self-inflicted wound that many families can’t do without. Wanderlust runs deep in humans. Mostly because we want to believe that there must be someplace out there better than here. Maybe… there?

Thus, families overpack, coerce their family unit into the car, and go. I don’t know any sure-fire way to get the best out of kids but one way to get the worst out of kids is to put them in a car and go. Kids will go through phases. They’re bitter, resentful, sullen. Then they’re angry; then bored. At some point they try to plead their way out of this Road Trip, which is hilarious. Ultimately kids turn their attention toward each other and, in the literal and figurative sense, poke at their nearest sibling. The next words uttered from the backseat will reverberate in a parent’s skull until they depart this mortal coil: “You’re on my side.” This territorial dispute will not be settled with bribes or a fresh strip of duct tape. This is a forever war.

A Road Trip also brings out an emotional state of delirium I call “punchy”. When someone is punchy, their words become abstract and beatnik. Unprompted, a rider might blurt out: Ride the wave, Daddio! They might bang their head into the back of the seat or burst into inexplicable singsong: Are we there yet? Are we there yet? And the most mundane response: “One more hour, Junior,” might elicit uncontrollable, maniacal laughter.

Everyone has a role on a Road Trip. The Driver, of course, drives. Shotgun navigates. And the backseat is uniquely positioned to operate as Backseat Drivers. “The speed limit is sixty but you’re going sixty four.” The backseat pass the time with a game. “I spy something boring.” “Is it… this Road Trip?” “Yes!” “I spy something terrible.” “Is it… this Road Trip!” “Yes!” On and on.

There are many destinations: Redwoods; the Badlands; Mount Rushmore; Yellowstone; Niagara Falls, Red Rock, Grand Canyon, et. al. No matter where your final destination is, the most important thing to remember is: getting there will be terrible.

A wise man once said: The real journey is the destination. And that’s exactly why the Road Trip is terrible. If the destination was the destination, then you’d have a chance. But it’s not. So, when you finally, at long last, pull up to that National Park, it will not suddenly “all be worth it” because, for some reason, you thought it was a good idea that your family go camping.