When my mother suggested we take a summer road trip through Michigan, I thought briefly of the children I’d seen on TV who’d successfully “divorced” their parents, but doubted any judge would rule in favor of a child’s right to air travel.
“You kids are spoiled,” she said. “My family used to drive to Florida—all seven of us in a station wagon.”
My mother was not particularly keen on the laments of her children, especially when they pertained to the family-vacation planning. My sister and I, even at 13 and 10, were vocally opposed to spending a week with our family in a hot car. I think my father secretly took our side, as I often suspected he did, but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.