>In 1987, I decided I wanted to go to the official 10th Anniversary Star Wars convention in Los Angeles. It would be cheaper to drive than to fly, but it meant being on the road for at least 10 days by myself, age 21. My mom decided to go with me, and we turned it into a great adventure, nearly three weeks on the road. We stayed at really cheap motels (except in L.A. where we stayed at the conference hotel), and we stopped anywhere that looked interesting: national parks, state parks, tourist traps (“You don’t want to miss THE THING, 25 miles ahead!”). We saw the Grand Canyon, and played the slots in Vegas. We visited the London Bridge, Hoover Dam, and photographed every cactus in Saguaro National Park. My parents and I had traveled a lot when I was growing up, but I didn’t appreciate it like I did this time.
My husband’s travel experiences have been far less interesting. His parents would drive across the state for a piece of pie, meaning hours crammed into the car with two other kids. His dad drove around town for work on the weekends, and carried the kids with him. These excursions were more boring and frustrating than anything. Nowadays, my husband just wants to get where he’s going and get back, and usually time constraints mean that’s what we have to do.
As unrealistic as it is, I would love to take my husband on a two- or three-week trip like the one I had with my mom. I think that if we weren’t rushed, and if we stopped anywhere and everywhere that looked interesting, he would have a good time. No telling when we’ll have the freedom and money to do that, but it’s a dream that I will keep in my heart until the time comes.
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