As Tim and I begin mentally preparing for our next road trip with the girls, this time to Cincinnati for Christmas, I look back fondly on memories of past road trips. Today, I revisited a letter that I wrote my cousin Nancy on June 16, 1991. I was just shy of 12 years old. [Nancy included this letter in a scrapbook she made for me a few years ago.] I've seen it before many times, but it always makes me laugh:
I sure wish we wouldn't have had to drive straight through [back from the Outer Banks in North Carolina] instead of stopping at a hotel the way you guys got to. It was a nightmare in my opinion.
We left at about 9:00 a.m. as you know, and we drove and drove and drove until we stopped at Hardees to eat. I was in heaven -- but not for long.
We got back in the car and drove and drove and drove until we finally stopped at a rest area. By then Mary Grace sounded like a foghorn [my sister who was about to turn 1 year].
Then we got back in the car and drove and drove and drove and drove until we finally got home. By then my mouth was so dry I could hardly speak. Then we all went to bed.
DON'T EVER LET THIS HAPPEN TO YOU!
I love that I was "in heaven" at Hardees. I still do enjoy my fast food when we're on the road, but I don't know if I'd go so far as to call it heaven.