The destination was set. The car was loaded. The task was daunting. But the boys. The boys were ready.
The last week of school seemed to drag on forever, but as soon as we were done, we hit the road. Seventeen tedious hours from Fred-town to Panama City Beach, Florida, and we were determined to do it all in one leg. The first six hours passed effortlessly; filled with conversation, music and laughter. But as soon as the clock hit, our first sign of trouble hit: food shortage. We had eaten all the snacks and were 22 miles from the next exit. Those miles crawled by, but soon the stockpile was replenished with Pringles and Kit-Kats, and the mood was back to celebratory.
Problem 2 showed its ugly face at nearRoss had to use the lavatory, and we stopped for gas not but one hour ago. It was a tough decision that was not made without much deliberation, but we decided we had to cut a man loose. Ross broke the only rule: Not a single second of fun is to be wasted.
The third and final problem arose at a crucial part in the trip, the drive through Alabama. It was a torrential downpour outside and the drivers side windshield wiper flew clear off of its moorings! I was in the drivers seat, and the decision was made. The final three hours of the trip would be driven with my head outside the window. No. Fun. Wasted.
Alas, we arrived at the pale blue water and the soft pillowy sand of Panama City Beach, where dreams are made, hearts are mended, and friendships strengthened.
The boys made it and had an absolute blast. We caught a little sun, and had a lot of fun.