I was with a group of people last week and we were sharing memories of our favorite vacations. The best memories I have of family vacations when I was growing up was not the places we went, but how we got there.
My family of five covered the southeast from Tennessee to Florida in a Ford Cobra van. Our two-toned tan and brown '70s van had it going on:
Middle bucket seats that swiveled around toward the back.
A mini refrigerator with a MARBLE top.
A bench seat in the back which converted into a bed.
Side windows with tie-back curtains.
And most important...a Georgia Bulldog tire cover and a Georgia fight song horn that was unbelievably obnoxious.
Some of my favorite memories are of my sisters and I sleeping in our pajamas in the van bed until it was time to stop for breakfast. I remember a few years of taking the training potty for my youngest sister instead of making so many pit stops for her. I remember the games, the songs we made up, the laughing, the fun, and the fighting! I remember that we rarely had a hotel reservation. It was a family decision as we rode around until we found something with vacancy at a reasonable price that had an awesome pool.
But don't ask me about Carowinds or Disneyworld or Daytona or The Grand Ole Opry, because I don't remember much. I've seen the pictures...and that's about it.
Sometimes the journey is more memorable than arriving at the destination. We miss out on so much because we keep asking the question "are we there yet?". What do you think? Maybe the journey IS the destination.
My family of five covered the southeast from Tennessee to Florida in a Ford Cobra van. Our two-toned tan and brown '70s van had it going on:
Middle bucket seats that swiveled around toward the back.
A mini refrigerator with a MARBLE top.
A bench seat in the back which converted into a bed.
Side windows with tie-back curtains.
And most important...a Georgia Bulldog tire cover and a Georgia fight song horn that was unbelievably obnoxious.
Some of my favorite memories are of my sisters and I sleeping in our pajamas in the van bed until it was time to stop for breakfast. I remember a few years of taking the training potty for my youngest sister instead of making so many pit stops for her. I remember the games, the songs we made up, the laughing, the fun, and the fighting! I remember that we rarely had a hotel reservation. It was a family decision as we rode around until we found something with vacancy at a reasonable price that had an awesome pool.
But don't ask me about Carowinds or Disneyworld or Daytona or The Grand Ole Opry, because I don't remember much. I've seen the pictures...and that's about it.
Sometimes the journey is more memorable than arriving at the destination. We miss out on so much because we keep asking the question "are we there yet?". What do you think? Maybe the journey IS the destination.
1 comment:
I can tell you lived in Greenfields subdivision. Big van, marble top, swivel chairs...you can't hide money!
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