The Summer (part 2)

I have never been a fan of the '...to be continued' TV shows. When I sat down to my favorite TV show I expected the hero or heroine to successfully deal with the problems laid out before them in the hour time slot which they were allotted. As the show progressed I would grow increasingly agitated as I watched the clock. A feeling of dread came over me as I realized the mine shaft was collapsing and not even MacGyver could get the people out in the remaining five minutes. I tried yelling at the TV and that didn't work. Now I would have to endure an entire week of not knowing who makes it out alive. I thought that was terribly cruel on the part of the TV writers. Normal life doesn't happen this way. "I hope you have all enjoyed the soup and salad. Come back next week for a delicious entree and a lovely dessert."

Anyway, back to the summer. I enjoyed family vacations. I have some very good memories wrapped up in my summer getaways. Only one bad memory remains. Spending fifty-seven thousand hours in the car. I remember pressing my face against the glass and staring at the other kids who were trapped in their back seat minimum security prisons. Our souls were knit together in the two seconds that our cars passed on the interstate. In the split second that our eyes met we knew what the other was saying: "your suffering is not alone, my walkman batteries ran out five hours ago as well." I would feel a special kind of envy every time we passed a motor home. I had no idea what was going on inside those tinted windows but I was sure it was some sort of mini circus. I pictured kids swinging from a trapeze. There were dancing clowns and free candy for everyone. I had no idea what champagne was at age ten but I'm sure they had a few bottles of the bubbly as well.

I was fascinated by the motor home. It was the only place on earth where I could jump out of the bedroom and land in the kitchen. Another two steps and I was in the dining room. I pretended that the rooms were normal size and I had super-human powers. I was king in my miniature house on wheels. Now that I'm an adult, motor homes seem a bit odd to me. It's like trying to live on an airplane for a week. You have tiny closets and tiny beds and tiny bathrooms. Now I jump from the bedroom and land with one foot in kitchen and one foot in the living room. I've got one hand on the stove and the other on the toilet so I don't fall head first into the dining room table. I feel like a rhinoceros walking through the Pottery Barn trying not to break anything.

I'm not sure why everyone is so disgusted with Hummers. We could be driving houses down the interstate. The next time your caught in rush hour remember it could be worse. We could all have Winnebagos.