The windows rolled down, homemade CDs playing old tunes, cramped backseats, a trunk full of luggage and snacks, and of course, lots of bickering.
That's what I remember about family road trips. Despite the bickering and arguing and sometimes volatile energy in that black Nissan Pathfinder, I look back on those memories fondly.
I look back and remember the constant replaying of some stupid song about a hamster dance. I look back and remember my brother killing a fly on the ceiling of the truck with a clipboard — we all had clipboards so that we could draw and colour as my dad drove through mountains and deserts.
I look back and remember my dad reassuring my mom that he was good to keep driving one night — "I drive the best at night!" I look back and remember my brother and sister making peace signs behind my head because they knew it annoyed me. I look back and remember me crying at them to stop didn't work.
On this particular road trip, we were driving to Disneyland. I was around five years old, still in a car seat, and the backseat was squishy and hot. It's fascinating remembering what sticks with you, especially when we were so young when it happened. It's fascinating which memories can be brought back simply by talking about them.
Going down memory lane is a road trip in of itself. There's beautiful scenery outside the window — the good memories you can look back fondly on and wish you could experience again. There's the bickering in the car — the arguments and negativity you remember. And then there's the unknown darkness — driving through the night with only your headlights to see what's ahead, and as you turn a corner, you see something in the distance, but only briefly.
Those are the repressed memories. Or forgotten! Not all forgotten memories are bad ones. Sometimes you forget how much you laughed over your brother's comical singing voice in the dead of the night. Sometimes you forget how much it hurt to be teased by people you look up to. But fortunately, those memories are just that: memories. Yes, it can feel like you're reliving those painful experiences (and sometimes you need extra support to get through and process those moments) but you are in the present. Safe.
That doesn't mean the emotions attached to those memories aren't real because they very much are.
Road trips, whether literal or not, are an adventure; not all good, not all bad. And if going on one ever feels unsafe, I got you. I am always more than happy to sit in that cramped backseat with you.
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