Sorry for missing my blog on trains last week. I’ve never been on one, but when it comes to cars, it feels as though most of my life has been spent in them.
Growing up, my family owned a trucking company. My mom used to do hotshot services all across the Gulf Coast and some of those trips meant the kids went with her. I was too young at the time, but my sister had the unfortunate honor of being with mom when she slid down a hill in Alabama. In the middle of the night. In a very remote area (cause that’s where the oil rigs were). Yeah, my sister doesn’t like to drive.
Me on the other hand? I used to love riding in the car. By the time Mom got out of the hotshot industry, she’d married my stepdad who used to drive a big rig. I was old enough by then to go on trips with him. Maybe that’s where I get my love of exploring via car, but when I got my license, I’d hop in the car and drive all over the place. Most of the time it was just in my area, but as I got older and more confident, I’d take longer and longer road trips.
In college, I had this mini-van I sort of inherited from my parents. It should have been the death knell of my social life, but the great thing about mini-vans is they can fit a lot of people. When my friends would go anywhere, I was the one behind the wheel with all of them piled in the back. One particular trip to Gulfport turned into a foray into Bayou Labatre where we only had time to get gas before we had to get back to Gulfport.
To this day, when my family and I go anywhere, I have to drive. As much as I love my family, I don’t like anyone’s driving but my own. My sister has no problem with that since she has this phobia of bridges that prevents her from driving across them (big bridges mind you. If she was afraid of small bayou bridges, she’d never be able to leave her house.) Road trips are a blast. The further away the better. I don’t use GPS either. My motto is: There’s no such thing as getting lost. If you don’t know where you are, just turn around and go back the way you came.