Road Trips With My Families

Not my dad’s Impala, but extremely similar.

Evgeniya is sleeping in the passenger seat, clasping her hands above her pregnant belly, just below her breasts. We had a long day of adventures, which I guess wore her out. Her lips appear to almost smile. She looks so damn cute asleep.

It occurs to me that at the moment, her life is totally in my hands. Heck, not just hers, but our unborn daughter’s as well. It’s getting dark, and I’m tired too, but I have to navigate this behemoth of a minivan safely home. There is no other choice.

I’m that guy now. The Man of the Family.

I have a flashback to my childhood, well before I had any such responsibility. It’s late at night and I’m riding in the backseat of my dad’s ’74 Chevrolet Impala with my sister, pretending to be asleep. My mom and dad are upfront, talking about the day. I don’t recall what they were saying, or even where we were coming from, but I strongly remember the feeling: safety. The feeling that everything was going to fine. My dad had everything under control. He was going to get us home. He was the Man of the Family.

Most likely, we were coming home from some hours-long road trip to Busch Gardens Williamsburg, a popular theme park in Virginia, where my dad was stationed while in the Navy. It’s funny to think about now, but if that was the case, trust me when I say that the day didn’t start out with the same amount of calm. You see, if my dad was going to pay what he thought were astronomical ticket prices for a theme park, then by golly we were going to get his damn money’s worth. So, being the military man that he was, he woke up at 5 AM to get ready, and expected his family to do so as well.

However, I was definitely not a military man. I was the world’s laziest seven-year-old. Dad came in my room, woke me up, told me to get ready, walked out of my room, and I promptly rolled over and went back to sleep. A deep sleep. I started dreaming of–

“WAKE UP RIGHT NOW GODDAMMIT!!!!” My dad screamed as he burst back into my room. I literally leapt up off the bed into the air like a cartoon character. I’d never been so scared in my life. Once my heart started again, I was pissed off. I definitely made some smartass remarks as we were packing up. My dad definitely told me to “shut up, get ready, and get in the car”.

Poor Dad. He had to spend a lot of time yelling during those trips. Unlike today, kids back then didn’t have electronic devices that could distract them for hours on end. Without adequate entertainment, it was difficult for me to go even ten miles without punching, kicking, or pulling the hair of my younger sister Lori.

“Stop it! DAD! Joe is picking on me!” She’d whine.

“JOSEPH LEAVE YOUR SISTER ALONE!”

“I wasn’t doing anything!”

“He’s lying!”

“I’LL PULL OVER AND SPANK YOU BOTH RIGHT NOW!”

This would keep us quiet for about 7.3 seconds, then I’d hold my fingers two nanometers from her eyeballs and say, “I’m not touching youuuuuu…”

“DADDY!”

“DO YOU WANT ME TO TURN AROUND? I’LL TURN AROUND THIS CAR RIGHT NOW IF YOU TWO DON’T START BEHAVING!”

Repeat for the length of the trip.

Alas, after a fun day of getting Dad’s money’s worth, nightfall would eventually come,  and we’d load up the car to go home. Lori and I, exhausted from hours of roller-coaster rides, shows, and punching each other, would climb in the back seat and go to sleep.

Or, if not sleep, then at least experiencing the security of knowing the Man of the Family is going to get us all home safe and sound.

“Baby,” says Evgeniya, who’s just woken up. “Stop at Publix. I want to get some fruit.”

Enough of that little memory. The Man of the Family has some responsibilities now.