Motorhome Madness: Dads in the Crossfire
As any dad will tell you, there is nothing quite like a ten-hour drive with the family to solidify the theory that leaving home is seldom a good idea. From the world's largest house of cards to the 500-pound man-eating clam, cross-country travel is a freak show punctuated by toothless gas station attendants and roadside diners serving "Pork Chops" for dinner and "Fat Sam's Surprise" for dessert. A little culinary tip for you: don't eat any food enclosed in quotation marks and/or endorsed by a fat man who enjoys surprises.
If you happen to be driving your wife and children across this great land of ours, it's only a matter of time before you come upon a tourist trap known as The Mystery Spot, an unofficial chain of museums that rest atop unexplained energy fields where anything can happen. Mysteriously enough, these energy fields are never more than two miles from a highway exit, and they are responsible for such unexplained oddities as root beer bottles that roll up hill and haunted donuts that burst into flame without provocation. God only knows what happens if you're foolhardy enough to provoke the donut.
The worst part of a Mystery Spot comes later, when your kids ask for an explanation. They're still waiting for you to cough up a straight answer about sex, and now you have to explain exploding donuts? Dodge the question by hollering, "Who wants Skittles?" and throw handfuls of candy treats into the back seat. There's nothing quite like a mouthful of sugar and artificial preservatives to distract an inquisitive child.
Unfortunately, all the Skittles in the world won't matter if you are sharing the road with a motorhome. If you see one on the road ahead, pull over and vacation right there. I don't care if you're in downtown Gary, Indiana. Light some incense, plug your nose and have a little quality time with the family. Whatever you do, don't pass the motorhome and let your family see how much fun everyone on board is having. Many a dad has not heeded this warning, and they have suffered the consequences.
If you decide to press on and pass the rolling cauldron of doom, your kids will be the first to turn on you when they catch a glimpse of the other kids playing in the back of this high-speed playground. These children are building blanket forts and running in frenetic circles while the Totino's Pizza Puffs cook in the microwave. Unlike your impoverished offspring, they're not foraging in car seats for a few crusty Skittles their heartless father threw at them.
You can forget receiving any support from your wife at this point, because she is moments away from crossing over to the dark side herself. As she puts down her crossword puzzle to pour a Sanka from the thermos, you foolishly pull alongside the motoring behemoth of hedonism. There in the belly of the beast sits the mother of those duplicitous rugrats who have turned your own children against you. She is sitting there, flipping through copies of Vanity Fair, watching Oprah on the DVD and driving a stake into your heart.
As this point you are better off finding the nearest Mystery Spot and throwing yourself on an exploding donut. Your wife looks up in time to see a woman seated at a lovely breakfast nook, pouring a cup of freshly brewed coffee into a real ceramic coffee mug. No thermos full of Sanka. No tiny crossword puzzle tucked behind the visor. Just a real cup of coffee in a real kitchen that is hurtling down life's highway at 64 miles an hour.
Now comes your turn. You pull up to the front of the motorhome, where a tight-lipped, wide-eyed man your age is trying to keep this motorized Motel 6 from careening into your lane. He steals a glance in your direction and your eyes meet. Behind the sheer terror in his eyes you notice something else: an apology. He is sorry because he sees the demon spawn in your back seat conspiring to destroy you. He is sorry because he recognizes the cross-armed disgust of your wife. And he is sorry because he remembers the trip he took two years ago when he unwittingly passed a Northstar TravelKing 850 and the life he knew disappeared.
You will see this man again, after you have succumbed to your family's relentless torture and purchased a motorhome of your own. You will see him at the Jellystone Park Campground first aid tent, where you will wind up after spraining your wrist trying to screw on the sewer hook-up. You will see him in the parking lot at the mall where you cause several thousand dollars of damage trying to back something the size of a freighter ship into a parking spot built for a Yugo. And you will see him again in your dreams, where the two of you are finally smart enough to pull off the highway and see what downtown Gary, Indiana really has to offer.
