Even as a kid, I enjoyed just getting into the family vehicle. It always seemed to be filled with such promise: a trip to the store, or a hockey game, or maybe the open highway for a family vacation. The cars were bigger back then: more comfortable and built for long land voyages. Plus, since Mom or Dad was driving, I didn’t need to be too concerned about where we were going. I wasn’t nervously glancing at the road atlas, or calculating our fuel levels. Instead, I trusted that the destination would be entertaining, or educational, or wonderful in some way.
Blissfully ignorant, I relied totally on the beneficence of my parents to get us there unscathed, wherever and whatever “there” may be.