The road less traveled helps the family dynamic
Regardless of how well a family gets along, long car rides
inevitably become a test of patience for all involved.
My family has racked up the miles this summer traveling to
baseball tournaments in exotic locales such as Woodland, Davis,
Turlock and Santa Maria. That means that two teenagers need to get
along with each other in a confined space for two to three hours
while at the same time not testing the patience of Dad the driver
and Mom the co-pilot.
The road less traveled helps the family dynamic
Regardless of how well a family gets along, long car rides inevitably become a test of patience for all involved.
My family has racked up the miles this summer traveling to baseball tournaments in exotic locales such as Woodland, Davis, Turlock and Santa Maria. That means that two teenagers need to get along with each other in a confined space for two to three hours while at the same time not testing the patience of Dad the driver and Mom the co-pilot.
These trips always start well, with the excitement of getting out of town mixed with the anticipation of success on the baseball field. If we’re heading to or through the Central Valley, we marvel at the beauty of Pacheco Pass as we wind up and over the hill, then comment on how full or empty the San Luis Reservoir is.
Depending on the time of day, we might stop at Carl’s Jr. in Santa Nella for food, which then buys another 20 minutes of solitude as we all eat while motoring down the highway.
But when Hour 2 on Hwy. 5 rolls around, the dynamic changes. Maybe it’s the straightness of the road or the unchanging, brown scenery that alters our mood. The sniping begins.
“Turn down your iPod!” we implore from the front seat to one of our boys, who usually is blissfully unaware of the command until we turn around and make eye contact. Three minutes later, the volume is back up, and so is the sound of our repeated command.
“Stop touching me!” or “Get him away from me!” are the other long car trip stand-bys, as one brother inevitably invades the space of the other.
I occasionally get the “please turn down the radio” request from my wife, particularly since my musical tastes often lean more toward my sons’ taste than hers. Fortunately, she doesn’t usually yell “Stop touching me!” or “Get him away from me!” when we’re in the car. That would be awkward.
During our recent sojourns to Santa Maria for a tournament, we decided to mix things up by taking Hwy. 25 past Pinnacles National Monument and then over to King City, rather than taking 101 through Salinas.
This route not only cut about 20 minutes off our trip each way, but it took all of us out of the semi-conscious state we tend to be in during the monotonous trips on straight highways.
Hwy. 25 turns and dips and curves and winds its way through beautiful, stunningly uninhabited acres of San Benito County, which is bigger than you can imagine if you haven’t taken that trip yet.
This stretch can be a real stomach-turner for those who don’t keep their heads up in the car, so everyone remains engaged and, therefore, out of each other’s hair.
Instead of looking for Slug Bugs on 101, our trips up and down 25 had us looking for scampering squirrels (one brave one didn’t make it during its daring dash in front of our car), circling buzzards and skittish deer.
One evening, we drove around a corner and barely missed two owls that had landed on the road. Their huge, white wings flapped valiantly as they narrowly pulled themselves above our windshield and out of harm’s way.
Once we got back on 101 for the last two-thirds of our trip southward, we settled back into the routine, the boys listening to their music, my wife sneaking a nap and me singing along to 80s hits while calling out “Slug Bug!” because no one else was paying attention.
I’m typically a fan of finding the straightest, quickest way to a destination, even if it makes the trip feel like the car is on a treadmill passing the same scenery. After our recent route change and the subsequent positive impact it had on our family traveling dynamic, I might just take the road less traveled a little more often – even if it means I don’t win the Slug Bug game.
Adam Breen teaches newspaper and yearbook classes at San Benito High School and is a reporter for The Pinnacle. He is former editor of the Free Lance. Check out his blog athttp://thebreenblog.blogspot.com .
