As a kid I remember warm sunny afternoons when my Dad would pile my sister and I into the back of his truck (it was the ’80’s) for an adventure. He would drive us through the San Bernardino foothills on poorly maintained fire roads. We rarely had a destination in mind, it was all about the journey. My sister and I bobbing up and down with every dip in the road, gripping the sides of the truck to keep from sliding around too much and coughing through the dust.
This Saturday I had a deja vu moment as I put the truck into a lower gear and steered us up a steep and very rough road while my own children bounced around in the backseat. I felt like I had come full circle without even realizing it.
I told my kids this was what we used to do for fun when I was younger. They were shocked to know my sister and I had ridden in the back of the truck. I told them about fire roads and how my parents had to get out of the truck to turn the four wheel drive on. They asked me if I liked going on adventures when I was a kid. I stopped to think for a minute and realized I didn’t like or dislike it, it was just something we did, like the way your family hangs the toilet paper inside or outside. It just was.
I pointed out how different the experience was for them, as they were sitting in the nice air conditioned cab of the truck, clean of dust, securely held in place by their seat-belts. We were doing the same thing, but their version was different than mine.
We finished the afternoon off with cheap mexican food, a very different experience from my childhood. Growing up we went out to eat a handful of times a year. They have it good these kids of mine, I’m giving them the very best that I’ve got and I hope they remember it fondly.