Trippin' Down the Freeway

Let's start with a disclaimer: I really DO love my parents.

That said, there is something unsettling about being couped up with my Mom and step-dad (who I refer to as 'Dad') in a vehicle for almost three hours. It's not that they reek of the "old-people" stench--you know, that unmistakable scent of the strong perfume/cologne which contains the noxious fumes that remain in the room long after the perpetrators have left--or that they are mean, cruel, or condescending in any way.

My parents are the Griswolds. Or, rather, they bear a very striking resemblance to them...personality wise, anyway.

When Mom found out that I was tagging along with C to come home and celebrate her birthday with her family this past weekend, she pleaded with me to instead come with her to an outlet mall. She was on a mission: she is obsessed with Columbia jackets, and someone told her that there was a Columbia outlet in "nearby" Pennsylvania. (Curse that someone!) This would be her Mecca. Would I like to join my parents on this journey? "Sure," I foolishly replied.

So, Saturday morning, my parents and I embarked on our (or should I say Mom's) quest. Dad pretended to be annoyed at the situation, but he has an even bigger jacket obsession than my mother. His excitement was not well hidden. I was feeling much like a little child as I climbed into the back of Dad's silver Jeep. About thirty minutes into the drive, and after a little conversation (in which I finally told my folks that I am writing a novel) the radio turned on. I was expecting the worst: country. It's what they usually listen to, and what I was anticipating listening to for three hours. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised. It was the 80s station. I was humoring them, and they decided to humor me. Maybe this won't be so bad, I thought.

I was wrong for one very important reason: Mom knows these songs. She has been a radio personality for over thirty years (even before I was born), and she worked for a top 40 station in the 80s. I really thought I knew my mother...then I witnessed her screaming the lyrics to "Rebel Yell" at the top of her lungs. I wish I had Clorox for my eyes, ears and brain to scrub that from my memory. "More, more, more" indeed.

My parents found out that I'm on Twitter. They were aware of my Facebook page (not my writer's page, that was a surprise), but the Twitter thing somehow was a shock. Every time I was on my Blackberry, Mom asked me, "Are you Tweeting again? What are you Tweeting? Are you Tweeting about us?" Now I am, I thought. They give me plenty to tweet about. I love them for that.

Then there was the GPS. My parents try to be into technology. My Mom is more than a little clueless ("Lisa, how do you upload a picture to Facebook again?"), but my Dad is all about it. He is proud of the Garmin. He adores it...even when he turns the wrong way and it is endlessly "recalculating". My Mom thinks it's a giant nag; apparently, she feels threatened that the computerized voice of another woman is telling her husband what to do. Anyway, they both really can't work the GPS. This is a conversation at hour 2 1/2:
Mom: "This thing never helps us find anything!!"
Dad: "That's because you just can't type."

After an almost Griswold-like moment that was reminiscent of, "Hey, kids, it's Big Ben!", we made it to our destination, albeit a little later than expected. Mom bolted to the Columbia store that was right beside where Dad strategically parked, bought her jacket, and was happy. It was good to see her happy. A few hours later, we were on our way home, back into the car to endure more of Mom's 80s karaoke ("Pour some sugar on meeee..."). I might have Tweeted about it; I think I blocked some of it out....

All in all, it really was a good day. I have to smile when I think about road tripping with my parents. I'm glad they love me and want to spend time with me; I know they won't be around forever. If I have to indulge the musical stylings of my Mom and her version of "Love Shack" and my Dad's love of the sometimes inaccurate GPS, then so be it. It creates a lot of good memories...and a great blog topic.