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Understanding Chevy Chase more than I ever thought I would

August 13, 2007

So in 8 1/2 official hours of vacation, we have managed to turn a 5 hour trip into more than 8, hit every rest stop, side cafe, fast food joint, park and gas station along the desolate, primarily deserted two-lane road in the Eastern Oregon Dan did not show you, and there are now three more things I can add to my list of things I can not convince Jon to do (which is now starting to resemble the Torah). They are as follows:

1) Go more than 4 miles over the posted speed limit, even though when traffic whizzes by us at an unconsciousnable rate of speed it nearly blows us off the road;

2) Resist the urge to stop at EVERY (and yes, I do mean EVERY) possible opportunity for no less than 26.8 minutes each time while I sit in the car and bite my nails to smithereens while I watch the clock; and

C) LET ME DRIVE!!!

And this is only a THIRD of the way to our destination. At this point, we MIGHT (and that’s a very optimistic might) be there by Christmas, which is a problem, since I have to be back to work on Thursday.

The hair on both of our necks was standing straight up during one of our “Could you PLEASE drive just a smidgen faster or at least not stop at EVERY bush for Smokey to pee — we go hours and hours at home without letting him out; why is this so different? Nothing is even coming out anymore. He’s just whining because every time he whines, you pull over and he gets to think he’s marking something.”

His response was, “Angela, the point is not the destination — it’s the journey.”

I think I’m going to gouge my eyes out with a fork.

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6 comments

  1. wait a minute… the man is supposed to be the impatient one. šŸ˜‰

    surprised you weren’t yelling… “ARE WE THERE YET!?” lol

    hope your vacation is going well besides the driving.


  2. šŸ™‚ Thanks, Foo! It all worked out just fine and dandy. Jon and I have decided that in a former life, he was the girl and I was the guy. šŸ˜‰ I can’t STAND asking for directions! He sped up, and I mellowed out and the kids and dog learned that they didn’t need to stop EVERY time there was a bathroom or bush on the side of the road. It was most definitely me yelling “Are we there yet?” But maybe more appropriately, “Hey, we’re wasting valuable beach time here, people!” šŸ™‚ Hope all is well with you!


  3. I don’t mean to laugh at your pain, but that post did make me laugh. In a sympathetic way, of course. I would be tearing my hair out for sure and saying, “For the love of God, can we go???”


  4. CS ~ I’m so glad! I was laughing at myself quite a bit after I took a few breaths and realized that the man was NOT going to give me the wheel. I remember a friend of mine telling me a couple of years ago that I shouldn’t try to marry a pants-in-the-family-wearing type of guy. Unfortunately (or fortunately as the case may be), Jon is the biggest Alpha Male I think I’ve ever met. Lots of power struggles – lots of learning – lots of growing up for us both. There’s a time to drive and there’s a time to sit in the passenger seat. Apparently God thinks it’s funny that I’d rather drive. šŸ˜‰


  5. Traveling alone is the only way to travel. You can stop when you want, pee when you need, indulge every insane whimsy that comes your way. You can stop abruptly and take pictures of things that perhaps only you see. You choose the campsite or hotel. You wake up when you want. You can turn up the radio to ear-bleeding volume.

    If you must have people with you, require them to each take two Benadryls and a Cherry Coke. šŸ™‚


  6. Jim ~ perhaps this is my trouble — too much traveling alone. I was on the road A LOT as a youngster, usually by myself, but if I wasn’t alone, at least I was driving. This was an exercise in patience for me, but I was thankful that we all settled into a routine — I calmed down; Jon sped up; the kids watched movies, and it’s now quite a lovely memory. Funny how that happens.



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