|Fond childhood memories aren't|
always all they're cracked up to be.
|How many people should you|
cram into a Oldsmobile?
First of all, I always loved travelling. Any trip was an adventure for me, even if it meant being stuffed into a southward bound clown car. On these particular southern sojourns, my father always drove. My mother was always the navigator in the front passenger seat. My brother and sister were together in the back, nestled between Grandma and Grandpa, and I sat in the front between my mother and father. That’s right – front row center. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to secure such a prime location! Sitting up front in the “cockpit,” I had an unobstructed view of the speedometer, odometer and clock, making it easy for me to collect all the data required to calculate critical information about the trip and enter it in my travel log.( Yes, I kept a travel log.) Meanwhile, my brother and sister were stuck back in the cheap seats. Suckers!
|Pedro Sez, "You're|
half way there."
seat-belted together between Grandma and Grandpa. Not that I didn’t love my grandparents, but what kid wants to be stuck between two old people in the back of an Oldsmobile for two days -- but what could I do? I couldn’t help it that my parents liked me best. It wasn’t my fault I was the chosen one.
|Seat belt-less: life in the middle lane!|
Now whenever I go to Florida, I prefer to fly.