Holiday Road Trip Hell

We’ve had a few discussions here at Doves & Serpents about fear. Mel wrote about the dangers of playing it safe, Matt wrote about the simultaneous worship and fear of self, Laurie talked about places that scare us, Andy wrote about a scary movie (The Exorcist), and Claire talked about the potential dangers of helping homeless people. Apparently, Heidi’s the only one of us who doesn’t want to talk about fear.   Sheesh!

So I’m going to confess, right here, right now, that I am scared of being in the car with my children for long periods of time. I’m okay with around-town driving-I do a lot of it. But road trips to me are like nails on the chalkboard for some, or fear of heights or snakes for others. I can stay strong for about 15 miles before I’m ready to poke out my eyes (or theirs!) with red hot pokers. They whine because it’s too hot, because it’s too cold, or because someone is putting his/her feet on their arm rest. They fight over which movie to watch in the DVD player, which radio station to listen to (or whether to listen to one at all), or which restaurant to stop at. And then they eat snacks galore and throw their trash on the floor! I feel like a caged animal.   I have threatened to rent my own car or buy a plane ticket rather than be in the car with them.

I have managed to mostly avoid road trips up to this point. About 8 years ago, we drove from Baton Rouge to St. Louis and back. Other than that, our road trips have been limited to the route between Baton Rouge and Huntsville (300 miles) and Nacogdoches and Huntsville (105 miles).   Anything further than that and we have flown. But people: the Olson Beal family is about to embark on a road trip from Nacogdoches, Texas to Granby, Colorado (1149.25 or 1064.68 miles, depending on which route we take). We are doing it partly to save money (and yes, we will save money, even though road-tripping is NOT cheap) and partly to save the hassle of driving 2.5 hours to the airport, parking our car, riding the shuttle to the airport, checking baggage, going through security, the plane ride with the kids, picking up baggage, riding another shuttle to the car rental place, renting a car, and driving 2.5 hours to our final destination in a 5 passenger car (cue the whining and fighting) that we are paying out the nose for.

But boy, am I dragging my feet. I really dislike the person I become when I’m crammed into the car with my husband and children. And I dislike the people my children become even more. My husband? I still like him even on road trips (despite his annoying habit of purchasing a lottery ticket every time we go on an extended drive).   So I’m turning this into an advice column for the week:


Dear Doves and Serpents Readers,

I hate road trips. Do you have any advice for how to make a road trip with three kids (ages 7, 10, and 13) more pleasant? I’m not above using drugs, bribes, or money, and I have delusional visions of happily listening to books on CD and singing “100 Bottles of Coke on the Wall.”

Nervous in Nacogdoches