BY CATHERINE DOOK
all the cotton tops that would fit into the Execuvan’s hanging locker, a straw hat and a bottle of sunscreen. Ten I picked out some shell earrings that dangled clear to my shoulders and a brown plastic recorder. “Summer clothes?” John said. Te last Darlek on TV had been subdued and he
was watching me with a bemused expression on his face. “Tis is March. Last time you dragged me on a spring break vacation in the Execuvan we drove to Port Alberni and it snowed on us.” “It’s WARMER in the US than Canada,” I said. “Everybody knows that.” “Have you ever been there?” “Well, no,” I said. “What do you think of my earrings?” I held them up and waved
them in the air so he could hear them tinkle. “Tey’re funny-looking,” he remarked. “Tese are my ‘I’m on vacation and I don’t care if I look loopy’ earrings,” I said. I
Honeymoon Trip
The
I clasped my hands together. “Darling,” I said. “I’m so excited!” John looked up from the TV, where
he was watching Dr. Who save the world from Darleks. “Exterminate! Exterminate!” he said through his nose. “What about?” “Tis year we get two weeks of spring
break. We can go on our honeymoon trip.” “But we’ve been married for nearly 15
years,” John said. “When we got married you promised
we’d drive down the Oregon Coast in your vintage red Corvette, and we never did. Now’s our opportunity.” “I gave that Corvette to my son Rupert
years ago,” John said. “I know,” I replied. “We can take the
Execuvan.” “It won’t be the same,” John warned. “A honeymoon 15 years late in a smelly
Execuvan is better than no honeymoon at all,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. Besides, it’ll be a honeymoon with you.” “You’re going all gooey on me,” John
complained, “And you’re blocking the TV.” I laughed, kissed him again and hurried away to pack. It was mid-March, so I was sure I
could expect mild weather the minute we crossed the border. I threw together
22 RVT 142 • JULY/AUGUST 2011
picked up my recorder and an enormous yellow book of Beatles pop tunes. “What’s that for?” “I’m going to learn to play the recorder,” I said. John rolled his eyes. Just then the
phone rang. It was John’s daughter Lisa. “A vacation with Daddy?” she said. “Daddy doesn’t do well with vacations. Did
I tell you about the tires that fell off, the hood that flung up and hit the roof of the car on the way past, and the windshield wipers that failed? All five of us kids had to take off our shoelaces and tie them together and pull a wiper back and forth in the pouring rain for 700 miles.” “Tat was one of our BETTER vacations,” John said. Later, daughter Jackie e-mailed me with more details. “I fell out of the camper in
the middle of the night, I was chased by a bear and when I was four I was nearly deported to the UK.” “A little misunderstanding with immigration,” John said. “It could’ve happened to
anyone.” “Do we have passports?” I asked. “Of course,” John replied. Daughter Maggie texted me almost immediately. “Dngr. Don’t go. Daddy drove
BC to Man with 5 kids lookng fr motel. 3 days in car. Call Rupert.” “One vacation Dad leſt me at a gas station,” Rupert said. “I was just making my
mind up to ask the mechanic to adopt me when the family pulled up.” “It was an accident!” John exclaimed. “And he was a big strapping lad of seven, and
besides, I leſt him for only a few hours!” “Ask Dad abt snow globe,” Maggie texted me. “Oh that!” John said. “One reading week I drove the kids from Yellowknife to
Banff in a station wagon. Tat was another time we couldn’t find a motel, so we slept in the car. I had a snow globe sitting on the dashboard. It was so cold that by the time we woke up the snow-globe had frozen solid and cracked.” “Uh huh,” I said. “But nobody actually got frostbite,” he said. “At least I don’t think they did. One
time in Edmonton in rush hour the dashboard caught on fire, though. I drove around and around looking for a place to stop so I could put the fire out.” “Uh huh,” I said again. “Have those maps of Washington and Oregon arrived
yet?” “No,” said John. “Is there anything else I should know before we go?” I asked. “No,” he said again. He paused. “Tere are tsunami watch warnings up and down
the coast,” he remarked, “and probably most of the RV parks won’t be open yet.” I placed my recorder in my travel bag and closed the zipper. “I detect a pattern
here,” I said. “But this is my honeymoon trip, and nobody is going to talk me out of it.”
“I’ve seen your van,” my sister told me darkly. “I’ll be surprised if they don’t arrest
you at the border.” “John is a senior citizen who needs a haircut and I’ll be knitting socks. Tey’ll
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32 |
Page 33 |
Page 34 |
Page 35 |
Page 36 |
Page 37 |
Page 38 |
Page 39 |
Page 40 |
Page 41 |
Page 42 |
Page 43 |
Page 44 |
Page 45 |
Page 46 |
Page 47 |
Page 48 |
Page 49 |
Page 50 |
Page 51 |
Page 52 |
Page 53 |
Page 54 |
Page 55 |
Page 56