Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Sometimes it's better to fly Coach...ella

While half drunk and fully under the influence of steak, Wayne recently recalled a tale about a road trip from childhood. Here is what he wrote:

While considering the vast journey ahead of us, I recall a similar trip my family decided to take when I was still in middle school. While it nearly pales in comparison, it still serves as preparation for the trip ahead.

My parents had decided that it would be a wise choice to attend the annual family gathering in Myrtle Beach by driving to the area, which if you haven’t been there is an infestation of both miniature golf courses and strip clubs… something for everyone in the family, if you will.

At the time of this trip, my family was living in Jackson, Mich. It was named one of the worst 100 cities to live in the year we moved away from it. People were getting killed for their Starter jackets… remember how cool those were?

Anyway, it was roughly a 15 to 16 hour trip from Michigan to South Carolina. My father, whose tenacity and stubbornness exceeds my own, decided to take us on a Griswold-like vacation across the country to see these tainted shores of the Atlantic Sea.

The trip was conveniently made in July, perhaps the worst time EVER to travel in a beat down 1990 Ford Aerostar minivan. Think Little Miss Sunshine, but without the fun characters or a grandfather who snorts heroin.

We begin this incredible journey with no problems at all, but the moment we hit Ohio, the van starts acting up. Just as we are about to exit the state, it finally dies on us. There we sat, in 100 degree weather, with no drinks, in the middle of nowhere. For roughly 2 hours, we waited for someone to come by to assist us.

Finally, a kind stranger was more than happy to take us to a gas station some 10 miles away to get drinks and get the vehicle repaired. We continued our trek to South Carolina and had little to no problems, a spare tire and a cooler full of delicious carbonated beverages.

Eventually, we made it to our destination. I played miniature golf, my brother got stung by a jellyfish and my parents drank. The trip back was rather peaceful and problem-free, but I’ll never forget that 20 hour road trip to Myrtle Beach.

However, I now face a more daunting journey. A 26+ trek across the country to Indio, Calif. It will be long and arduous, but I will be sure to bring some spare fluids and maybe rosary beads, so I can pray that we don’t break down at all.

Long live Arcade Fire!!!

Photo Caption: There but for the grace of God goes Wayne, who very well could have had the exact same experience as these characters from Little Miss Sunshine if he had been born of a different grandfather. Photo taken from

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