I am coming to visit you, at great cost to my personal safety and sanity. If you’ve ever spent three days in the car with three small children – in a Chevy Venture – you’d know what I am talking about.
But I like you, America. With your adequately sized parking spots (seriously Canada….you drive the same cars, yet you expect your citoyens to park in spots about a fourth smaller?) And Target. And Trader Joe’s. And Chipotle Grill. And a Starbucks pretty much anywhere.
Though, of course not in states like Montana and North Dakota. Which are the states I’m (un)fortunate enough to have to drive through. Why aren’t there more ‘big’ towns in Montana and North Dakota, America? And maybe more ‘big’ roads too? (And why are there no good Priceline deals in any of the towns with hotels? Oh, because there’s nowhere else to go and you’ve basically got a captive audience? Ah, I get it now.)
It’s kind of a drag to drive through there. Frankly. Not to mention the customs officers, who like to confiscate my bags of fruit. American fruit, even. But when one peels off the stickers from one’s USA-Gala apples and washes them so one’s children won’t ingest harmful pesticides….those peskey officers want the apples back.
Even if my oldest son wails ‘but I want to eat an apple’ or something sad like that. Even as the professor tells the customs officer that we’re operating a baby exchange. (Though he means baby clothing exchange.) In an attempt to explain all the baby gear in our car.
I corrected him quickly – before customs decided to confiscate our baby as well. Or place us on some sort of no-drive list.
Anyway. I’m counting down the hours, America. Thirty six hours in the car with my three cherubs? But you’re worth it.
If you could keep the temperatures in the eighties and put a no-fly restriction on the mosquitoes, that would be excellent.