Exactly one week ago, my family and I stuffed the back of our Honda Pilot with luggage and drove south.  While flying maximizes time, the road trip enhances the holiday experience.  There is something special about the American open road.  

There was the gas station in Alabama with brevity, but no gasoline.  “Nope”, was the concise answer to the question of fuel availability (they did have boiled peanuts).  

We had a dull radar for gas stations, but a keen knack for local eateries. Dreamland Barbecue in Montgomery, Alabama was a divine experience.  The menu outlined the genesis of the restaurant.   In desperation to make ends meet, a local mason prayed to God for guidance; his prayers were answered in a dream while mine were answered when lunch arrived. A symphony of smoked pork was complemented by tea containing profuse and possibly profane amounts of sugar.  

There was the anticipation of crossing state lines and watching pine trees transition to palm trees.  We sang with the radio and played the license plate game.  A New York plate at the Florida border created quite a stir.  

We laughed and we fought.  My daughters are best friends and arch rivals.  I channeled my father and pulled the car over to the side of the road at least once.  When you are in a car for twelve hours you talk….a lot.  Amidst the chaos I realized my daughters are growing up.  

The beach was great, but a lot of memories were made on the way.