We’re sitting outside Carla’s Saturday morning ballet class, while Eddie dives into “Runaway Ralph” by Beverly Cleary. The suitcase is packed for our trip to Kentucky for a funeral, and the car is loaded. The books/CDs/DVDs are selected, the car has two brand-new tires, the house is clean(ish), the dog is in the care of neighbors, the map is marked, the hotel is booked and the toilet is unclogged. (I used all three of my neighbor’s plumbing snakes at 11:30 last night. Ugh.) We’re ready to go!
Then my father-in-law calls from Atlanta and tries to talk us out of the trip. They got four inches of snow last night, and roads are closed left and right. He warns me that it’s going to snow some through West Virginia, where we’re driving today.
I have tremendous respect for my father-in-law, and I strongly avoid prompting him to give me the raised eyebrow, which I just know he was giving me over the phone. I told him I checked weather.com last night and it said 30 percent chance of flurries in West Virginia, which didn’t sound too threatening to me. And if we run into bad weather, we’ve got our AAA tourbook and will find the next motel and hunker down. Worst case scenario: we turn around and head back to Baltimore.
But considering that I just survived two blizzards in five days – plus a week of closed schools and a wife out of town — I’ll be darned if I’m going to let a few flakes of snow slow me down. Plus, I packed snacks, lunch, swimsuits and seem not to have forgotten anything. I almost relish the challenge to my SuperDadness. And I’m looking forward to seeing my wife’s extended family, whom we haven’t seen in so long.
Road trip, here we come!