Oh spare me, Clark, I know your brand of family fun. Tomorrow you’ll probably kill the desk clerk, hold up a McDonalds, and drive us 1000 miles out of the way to see the world’s largest pile of mud! – Ellen Griswold, National Lampoon’s Vacation

So I know you’ve been waiting to hear about my road trip in that cool car from the Vacation movies. That’s right folks, the Wagon Queen herself, headlights and all. And you know what? It was a heck of a lot more fun than a pile of mud.

Of course that’s partly because HomeAway.com (proud owners of the car –and did ever a company own a more random thing? I’m not sure) didn’t stop with giving us a ride in the car. For three nights in June, they put me and Tommy up in several of the many vacation properties they rent online, the first of them in Sandbridge Beach, Virginia, south of the Virginia Beach boardwalk.

I wouldn’t say that Sandbridge was convenient to the Norfolk Airport, which we flew into (it took over an hour to get to our condo, although that was also because our driver got lost, one of several taxi fails on this trip) but I think there may be a reason for that. This was our view out the window of the condo:

Sadly we didn’t get to frolic on this lovely (and quiet) beach because it rained the one morning we were there. Despite the gloomy weather, Tommy did take a dip in one of the condominium’s gorgeous pools, which was surrounded by a huge patio full of large gas grills and comfortable chairs and tables. And when it really started raining we made the best of things (easy to do) hanging out in our condo and playing Uno on the balcony.

The distance from civilization is a clear asset here: I could see loading up a car with food (and if that car happened to be a huge 1983 station wagon, all the better), beer, and suitcases with bathing suits and little else in them and spending an entire vacation swimming, playing cards, and cooking meat outside. Or perhaps lounging around the living room.

But like the Griswold family, we couldn’t stay in one place – we had a mission to find family fun. Later that morning, after the clouds had burned off, John and Stephanie (known collectively as “The Truckies”) showed up with the car. Neither they or it disappointed. John’s first words to Tommy were “Dude! You’re a Phillies fan! I knew we’d get along,” thus cementing the kind of love and loyalty demonstrated only by 8-year-old boys and puppies. And Stephanie laughed at all of his jokes and was untiring in her willingness to do Mad Libs.

And the car. If you’re of a certain age, do you remember how wide cars used to be? I bet you don’t. Do you remember how springy the seats used to be? I bet you don’t. Do you remember that smell of oil and must and whatever happened to be rolling around under the seats and in the back? Close your eyes, and let me take you back to 1983. Even the radio seemed to channel the era, playing nothing but Journey and “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” (When it didn’t emit the most alarming high-pitched electronic scream I’ve ever had the, er, pleasure, of experiencing.)

The nice people at HomeAway had no particular agenda in Virginia Beach except to show Tommy a good time. I was too distracted by the fact that I was actually riding inside the Griswold Family Truckster to pay much attention as we rode down the main drag one block off the beach from the boardwalk, but that’s OK, because Tommy was keeping his eagle eyes open. When we parked the car and asked him what our agenda should be, his immediate and obvious response was “Eat sushi. Then play pirate mini-golf.”

And lo, perfectly serviceable sushi was to be found at Soya. Between the four of us we ate a more than healthy number of rolls including the Volcano – shaped as named. When we had depleted the city of Virginia Beach of a good portion of its tuna, salmon, and (I think) scallops – it was hard to tell in some of the rolls – we all turned to Tommy who knew exactly where a super pirate-y adventure was to be found.

So we said ahoy to this guy:

And I played a very hot and competitive 18 holes of mini golf with these scurvy dogs:

Come to think of it, I never did find out who won. John? You still have that scorecard?

And what comes after a long round of mini golf in the hot sun? Oh yeah, that’s right, ice cream with tons of rainbow sprinkles!

And a ride on the self-proclaimed “Biggest Inflatable Water Slide in the World.”

All of this was just about the most simple kind of slightly tacky and not-too-expensive family fun you can have at the beach of course. But the best part to me was actually free. It was spending the better part of the afternoon standing with Tommy in the waist-deep water facing down the biggest waves with grins on our faces, salt on our lips, and our hands clasped. Some day he will remember only that he got to ride in that crazy car. But I will remember the way his hand felt in mine as the water lifted our bodies. (And that I got to ride in the crazy car.)

The farmers market and concert we were supposed to attend that evening got rained out suddenly and ferociously, and the four of us ended up taking a very damp refuge in one of the many seafood restaurants along Virginia Beach’s main drag (honestly, it was not especially memorable and I didn’t bother to write the name down). I think we may have all smelled like the car a bit. Certainly we were already old friends: Tommy and John watched the Phillies play the Yankees and Stephanie and I chatted and then they took us home to our beautiful condo where I opened all the doors and windows and listened to the waves until I fell asleep.

And I hope you’ll read more about my trip in the Wagon Queen Family Truckster in these posts:

Colonial Williamsburg (and beyond) in the Truckster
Your top 5 questions about riding in the Truckster answered

Disclosure: Our entire trip, including giant slide rides and rainbow sprinkles on our ice cream, was paid for by HomeAway.

You might not know it from looking at my blog, but there’s been a lot going on around here lately. First there’s my guest post about Vermont at Momtrends. Then, there’s the launch of Best Family Travel Advice (have you stopped by to ask a question yet?). I’ve also been planning for our upcoming trip to England and today I’m heading off to New York City for the Travel Blog Exchange conference. So I guess it’s not surprising that I haven’t had time to share the tales of the two and half days we spent in the Homeaway Griswold Family Truckster. Until I have time to tell the full story next week I thought I’d do the next best thing and post a photo of Tommy and me stuck in the stocks in Colonial Williamsburg where we spent a hot and whirlwind few hours checking out wigs and oxen and moveable type.

This weekend I’ll be meeting, listening to, and learning from, some of the best travel bloggers out there. I’m looking forward to returning inspired and full if ideas to make The Mother of All Trips even better. And in addition to telling my Truckster tales, next week I’ll be revealing our full England itinerary and talking about some of the new traveling strategies I have in mind for this trip. Until then, hope you have a great weekend.

For Photo Friday at Delicious Baby (whom I will see this weekend – yay!).

1. Oil and old car, with a side of fries.
2. Those are lap belts.
3. That? Oh, it’s just a little rain leaking in.
4. Aunt Edna is around…somewhere.
5. The seats are surprisingly comfortable.

And here’s a bonus answer: The truckies are for Awesome with a capital A. John should write a book titled How to Talk to An Eight-Year-Old Boy and Stephanie is as nice as pie and willing to do Mad Libs. They took good care of me and Tommy in Virginia Beach and our day included sushi, mini-golf, and a giant inflatable slide. More to come later – I don’t seem to have much Internet access. Maybe I have returned to 1983? Is that Christie Brinkley passing us in a convertible?

And I hope you’ll read more about my trip in the Wagon Queen Family Truckster in these posts:

Wagon Family Queen Truckster stop one: Virginia Beach

Colonial Williamsburg (and beyond) in the Truckster

Disclosure: Our entire trip, including giant slide rides and rainbow sprinkles on our ice cream, is being paid for by HomeAway.

So tomorrow I turn 40. And I won’t lie – that feels like a big number to me. Don’t know why, but it does. Maybe it’s because I can actually remember when each of my parents turned 40. Or maybe it’s because I’m now officially more than twice the age of most of the students I see walking around our college town. I’m also old enough that I was already a teenager when National Lampoon’s Vacation was released in 1983. I actually don’t remember where I first saw it (certainly not in the theater, since I’m pretty sure the racy content would have made my mom forbid it – she was strict) but like everyone else I have always loved the movie in all its quotable and silly glory.

So when HomeAway.com contacted me and asked if I’d like to take part in their Great American Road Trip, I said yes. What is the Great American Road Trip you might ask? Well, it involves driving a reconstruction of the famous Griswold Family Truckster all over the United States, checking out various roadside attractions, and staying at different HomeAway rental properties along the way. In addition to the fun factor – I mean the Truckster! – this trip is a good fit because I often use online services like HomeAway and VRBO.com (which is now owned by HomeAway) to book vacation rentals when we travel. In fact we’ll be staying in a VRBO property in London this July.

I won’t actually be driving the car – HomeAway has hired some youngsters, aptly given the nickname “Truckies” to do that. (Learn more about them here and read about where they’ve been so far here. And yes, they are each about half my age. Not to keep harping on that or anything.) And in the tradition of the series of movies, the road trip has more of a rough outline than an exact agenda.

So at this point what I know for sure is that Tommy and I will be flying to Virginia Beach on my birthday and then making our way up to Washington, DC in the Truckster over the following several days. Where will we stop? I’m not sure, but when we do, there will be photo ops with the car, so stay tuned if you think you’d like to have your picture taken. I’ll be posting updates about our trip here and also on Twitter. And if you can’t make it to Virginia this week but would like to see the car in your neck of the woods this summer you can help decide the Truckster route. And check out this chance to win a $5000 family vacation.

So today I’m dreaming of moving into my 40s in a way that is completely unique, more than a little goofy, and hopefully designed to keep me young at heart. What about you? Please feel free to share your link below.

Photo courtesy of HomeAway.

Disclosure: Homeaway.com will be covering the costs of our trip – although I’m not sure yet exactly what they will be!

We just got back from a very quick (as in less than 24-hours) visit to nearby Lancaster, PA and it’s got me in the summertime mood. A road tripping kind of mood.

Road trips for me mean loading up the car and setting off, often for weeks at a time. They mean trying out local diners and ice cream. They mean evenings full of “look-at-me’s!” in hotel swimming pools. They mean hours and hours of reading aloud and making up stories. They mean stickers, invisible pen books, and games of Twenty Questions. They mean having my seat kicked repeatedly. They mean seeing far-flung friends and family. They mean exploring new places. They mean unexpected detours. They mean lots of time together to talk and ask questions and bicker and just breathe the same air in the same small space.

I don’t actually have any serious road trips planned this summer other than our usual day-long drive to Vermont and back. But today I’m dreaming of that moment (I’ve called it “the driveway moment” before) when the car is packed, the kids are in it, and we’re off on a new adventure where we’ll count the miles and look at license plates and marvel as the scenery changes.

I’ve linked to lots of my road trip stories, but I wanted to draw your attention to the series I wrote last summer offering my top road trip tips (not to be brag, but I do think I know a thing or two):

• Eating on the road
• Be a little sneaky
• Music, music, music
• A detour can be your friend
• Don’t underestimate driving times

And if you’re looking for more travel tips, check out this opportunity to download some free travel books – and help donate money to spread clean drinking while you do it.

What do road trips mean to you? And what are your Monday Dreams? Please feel free to share them below. Questions? See About Monday Dreaming.

My name is Mara and I am addicted to my new iPhone.

Phew. It feels good to write those words. I’m a little sad and ashamed to report that on our recent trip to Los Angeles and Arizona, I was guilty of something I deplore – hunching over the screen of my phone, thumbs working, eyes glazed, oblivious to the world around me. Of course, I also put the phone to some really great use – locating parking and restaurants, mapping various routes, playing great music, finding a gas station when we almost ran out of gas in the desert. But as Matt informed me last night, I also acted like a “15-year-old boy” in the Phoenix airport, Tweeting and updating my Facebook status while he entertained the kids.

I feel particularly bad about this because for years I’ve been advocate of traveling without screens. My children own no portable video games or even Leapsters. No television or DVD player has ever come anywhere near my car. Heck, we don’t even go the audio book route, choosing instead to read aloud to each other. A point of particular pride for me was our trip last summer, when we spent 48 screenless hours driving across the Midwest.

(In case you are wondering, yes I am descended from New England Puritan stock.)

I haven’t changed my stance altogether, but having the phone has made me realize that used judiciously there are some ways that technology can enhance travel for everyone. And if I’m poring over blog posts in my reader, why shouldn’t the boys be able to practice counting or puzzle solving or even *gasp* play a bit of Tetris? I realize this is a slippery slope, and I’m more than a little uneasy about it, but if I’m going to enjoy my phone, it’s only fair that I let the kids join in the fun.

So why am I writing about this? I’m participating in a contest at Best Kids Apps, a blog about iPhone apps for kids, for a chance to win an iPad. That’s right – I’m trying to win yet another screen that I can take with me! An even bigger one! But I also want to tout this site, which was created by Jamie Pearson of Travel Savvy Mom and Jen Leo, who blogs about travel for the Los Angeles Times. They are both funny and smart and know from cool when it comes to traveling with children. As a newbie to the whole kids app thing, I’m so grateful that they’ve made finding some fun stuff for the kids so easy for me.

I will conclude this post with a dual promise: I’m going to be as strict with myself as I am with the boys and never again will I sit enthralled by a screen in the airport while Matt chats with the boys. And when everything in the car (and I mean everything, especially all the books) has lost its charm on marathon drives, I will have a few goodies loaded onto Matt’s and my phone for the boys to enjoy. And if I’m lucky, while they use the phones, I can amuse myself on my new iPad.

Photo courtesy of twenty5pics via Flickr.

On Easter afternoon, we loaded up our gear and headed from Los Angeles to Phoenix, where Matt’s parents live. And no, we weren’t on camels. Although we might have been better off if we were.

Here’s my brilliant travel tip of the week: When you’ve been driving through desert for about four hours in a rented Jeep SUV that shifts like a golf cart and smells like oil and you’ve finally crossed the state line and pass a bunch of big signs saying “Gas!” and you look at the dashboard and there’s just over a quarter of a tank left, don’t think idly to yourself that you had better stop the next exit and fuel up and then zip by singing along to whatever your Pandora station happens to be playing, Dionne Warwick for example.

We drove and drove and drove, and the needle continued of course to go down at an alarming rate. Then we passed a sign saying that the next town, Tonopah, was 25 miles away. There was no mention of whether or not there might be a gas station there. I looked around – nothing but saguaros and yellow wildflowers as far as the eye could see.

Casually, I reached over and turned the air conditioning off, hoping that Matt wouldn’t notice and maybe the gage would hold steady. He made no comment, and for a few miles I thought maybe I was OK.

Then the low-gas light flashed on with a loud ding. “What’s that? Oh boy!” Matt exclaimed, playing Bing Crosby to my Bob Hope. “Oh boy! You better slow down.”

So I did, pulling in behind an RV going about 60 miles an hour (the speed limit was 75). And for the next 25 minutes I prayed “don’trunoutofgas, don’trunoutofgas, don’trunoutofgas” while car after car after semi came roaring up behind us, whipping over into the left lane at what seemed always like the last possible safe moment. Matt, meanwhile, was desperately trying to figure out how to get the MapQuest app on my iPhone to tell him where the nearest gas might be. To his credit, he spoke not one word of blame, but I could tell from the set of his jaw that it was taking all of his muscular control not to do so.

Periodically from the backseat one of the boys would ask “Are we going to run out of gas?” Neither of them seemed genuinely concerned that it would happen – I think they were more worried about the tension that suddenly dominated the front of the car. I could barely watch the road, my eyes were so fixed on that needle, willing it with all my power not to sink any lower.

For those of you planning this same journey, I will tell you this: Tonopah does have several gas stations, one of which we coasted into on fumes. And my marriage is still intact. And the boys are unscarred. In fact, sensing my weakness and distraction in the mini-market of the gas station, they each conned a huge soda and then proceeded to get completely drunk on high-fructose corn syrup for the rest of the ride.

I’m not one for making categorical vows, but with the Interwebs as my witness, I promise you that from now on that anything near a quarter of a tank = empty.

people ask you if you’re home for the holidays and you say “oh, yes. We’re home.” Over and over again.

But then each time you add “oh, but we’re leaving on Tuesday for a night in Philadelphia. Then we’ll be heading up to Bethlehem, PA on Wednesday where we’ll be attending the first annual Peeps Fest. Then it’s over to Reading on Thursday for New Year’s Eve at my sister’s house.”

Since it’s Christmas week and we’re not getting on an airplane apparently three days on the road and two nights in a hotel don’t really count as traveling. More like taking a stroll up the street I guess.

I do have some sad news to report: Our reliable, grody, small-but-gets-the-job-done sedan may be moving one step closer to obsolescence. Due to a strange noise it’s been making we don’t trust it and have actually rented a car for this jaunt. So we’ll be traveling in the spacious comfort of a mid-sized car smelling of whatever that spray is they use as opposed to boy funk.

I hope to write some posts about this “non-trip” from the road. Stay tuned…

Not that I think I’m so great or anything, but there aren’t too many things I regret about our 4000-mile odyssey this summer. Probably this is in part due to the fact that both my kids are getting older. Or maybe it is because I’m also a little grayer and hopefully a bit wiser as well. (I’m thinking specifically about my very first road trip with Tommy when he was three months old and I planned to pump breast milk in the front seat of the car while Matt was driving. Good times.)

On this trip I was rarely caught without sufficient snacks or activities. We also had plenty of books. Since the speed limit in the Midwest is often as high as 75 miles per hour, we didn’t manage to always drive at 60 mph or slower as we had planned because it didn’t feel safe; but we did stay under 65 for the most part. And yes, Matt and I did ignore the fact that our car stereo, which had slowly been breaking for over two years, had finally given up the ghost for good right before we left. This meant no music on the drive from Delaware to Wisconsin. But we redeemed ourselves by buying a new stereo there – and since it was one that we could plug our iPods into, we had even more music than before for the rest of the tip.

However, when I do think about the things I might have done differently, there’s one theme that emerges, which we’ll call Road Trip Tip #6: Be realistic about driving times.

I have a bad habit of deciding what I want our driving time to be and then convincing myself that I can will it to be so, disregarding the possibility for traffic or weather, the need to eat and use the bathroom, or even the actual distance we need to cover. This last was especially problematic given our effort to drive more slowly. I don’t know what wacky math made me think that we could make it from Saint Louis to Bardstown, Kentucky (a distance of 300 miles) in four hours, but I did. That we could do so became even more unlikely when we left Missouri in a driving rainstorm that chased us most of the way. Since we had nonrefundable and not inexpensive tickets to see “Stephen Foster: The Musical” at 2 p.m., my underestimate made for a tense last half hour in the car.

So here’s my solemn promise, made for all the world to see: In the future, when I’m planning a trip I will tack at least 60 minutes onto any estimated driving time and make decisions accordingly. I’m sure Matt would say I should add 120, but there’s only so much change I can handle at one time.

And here’s a tip-within-a-tip – don’t be fast and loose about holiday weekends. We came back to Delaware on July 4^th and 5^th but I didn’t try to book a hotel on the 4^th until about a week beforehand when every room in West Virginia (not that there are many of them) was taken. We ended up having to spend the night of the 4^th in Lexington, Kentucky, which meant a very long driving day on a Sunday of a holiday weekend – hence the detour I described in a previous post. It would have been better if I had booked a hotel well in advance and we had driven as far as possible on Saturday to shorten up that last day of driving.

Does anyone else have mistakes they’ve made on long driving tips that they’d like to share? I’d love to hear what they are!

This post is the last one in my 2009 series of Road Trip Tips. Other tips in the series include:

• Goodbye summer…but before you go a few road trip tips
• Eating on the road
• Be a little sneaky
• Music, music, music
• A detour can be your friend

I’m sure this has happened to you: You’ve planned your trip carefully, gone online and looked up the perfect route home. You know down to the minute exactly how long the drive should take and may even be gaming it a little bit as a consequence (“Sure 12 hours is a long day, but it’s our last day in the car – we can do it.”). Maybe in the morning everything went so smoothly that you actually made up a little time and with undeserved hubris fueled by a caffeine buzz are now thinking you’ll have time for a grocery-store run when you get home.

Then you see the brake lights stretching into what seems like infinity. It must be time for Road Trip Tip #5: Detours can be a good idea.

If you have a GPS system in your car, you may already know the virtues of this tip. But I have a feeling that even with a computer to help many of us feel like we have to stick with major roads. So we sit in horrendous traffic, the sun beating through the windows, the children who have up until now been angelic whining (and let’s face it – we want to whine with them). Someone will have to pee. Someone else will be hungry. In the space of twenty minutes you forget why you even bothered to leave home in the first place.

This happened to us on the last day of our Midwestern driving trip this summer. Soon after we crossed the border from West Virginia into Maryland we encountered a serious accident that stopped traffic altogether for 45 minutes. Then a little farther on, when we hit the road that would take us down to the beltway around Baltimore and then to I-95 where we would turn north and head home (there’s no direct way to drive across Maryland see) the traffic was backed up in a way that promised we’d be moving at a clip of about ten miles an hour. It was late afternoon and we’d been in the car since 8 a.m.

I consulted our atlas, realized how far west we still were, and made the command decision that we would drive north into Pennsylvania and take Route 30 across the state through Gettysburg to Lancaster, where we would be in familiar territory and knew the back roads back to Delaware. And here’s what ensued:

• We drove through the lovely rolling hills of central-western Pennsylvania, golden in the sun, while the kids napped because the car was moving.
• Although we had to slow down to 30 miles per hour through any number of small towns, we encountered virtually no traffic anywhere and made decent time.
• At the exact moment when all of us wanted dinner we were driving through the fields that surround Gettysburg and happened upon the Appalachian Brewing Company where not only did we enjoy a great meal (the picture below is Teddy enjoying the “appetizer” of crackers, American cheese, and Mandarin orange slices that came with his kid’s meal) but where Matt and I could each have a much-needed beer.
• The last hour of our trip was spent not in tears and recrimination but with giddy, slap-happy kids who shrieked and laughed and generally enjoyed the naughty feeling of being up late and out after dark.

Because we were on country highways and stopped for a leisurely meal, the drive home probably took the same amount of time as it would have had we stayed on the Interstate. But it was cooler, more pleasant, and we didn’t have to eat a fast-food dinner at a crowded rest stop. It was a final reminder on this trip that even with kids in the car, road trips can be as much about the driving as the destination – and that a quick change of plans can be your salvation.

This post is part of my 2009 series of Road Trip Tips. Other tips in the series include:

• Goodbye summer…but before you go a few road trip tips
• Eating on the road
• Be a little sneaky
• Music, music, music
• Don’t underestimate driving times

Traffic jam photo courtesy of  http://www.flickr.com/photos/k2d2vaca/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0