Ode to NJ Turnpike

Ah, the summer and the open road. It reminds me of every summer as a child, when my siblings and I would be packed like stinky sardines into the hot sweaty station with the luggage carrier on top. My dad would proceed to twist the wheel and complain about bad drivers (a category into which he clearly fit), while my mom would roll and unroll the map taking time out to whack us with it when the situation required. We’d drive out from our little community in the country to the big ‘highway’ as they say in the east: otherwise known as the infamous ‘Jersey Turnpike.’

Once we hit the Turnpike, we’d choose a different direction each year. Sometimes we’d go north to the cool Maine countryside or to raucous ‘Baston.’ Often we’d go East to the Jersey Shore or West to Pennsylvania’s Amish Country since they were both close and cheap; though I, for one, got tired of ‘Shofly Pie and Amish children who would sprint away and hide behind their buggies when they ‘regular’ children like us. One time we went all the way South to Disney Land and got great pictures of my brothers goofing off by a sign that reads ’90 miles to Cuba.’

My sister would stick her pointy little Barbie Doll feet into my bum and my little brother would spill sour milk down the back of my shirt, but I didn’t care. But, we were on the road: Traveling someplace more fun and exciting than home. I loved the whole process of curling up against the window to let the breeze blow on my face and watch the miles tick by. I would dream of what we’d do when we got ‘there,’ of all the exciting people I would meet (minus Amish children of course) and all the exciting things we would do. The experience itself could never meet my grandiose expectations – but it was so much fun to plan in my mind, I didn’t care.

It was an innocent time: before portable DVD players, Ipods, individual sound systems or even (really, I kid you not) standard car air conditioning. Even seat belts were optional. I remember my Dad letting my siblings and I ‘drive’ on the farm by sitting on his lap and moving the wheel while he waved his hands about in supposed fear (he did take the precaution to drive with his knees but we never knew). It was all perfectly legal and dangerous but that’s how things were done until the laws started to catch up with the times.

Not that I want to go back to the non-air-conditioning, loosy goosey seat belt era, but there are a few nuggets of wisdom we can take with us from those times to use when traveling with small children today. As my Dad always said, you must have a POA (plan of action for non-military folk) so here are some tips from my parent’s POA handbook for use today:

Dole out any food like crumbs in ‘Hansel and Gretel’
I’d bet dollars to donuts your parents never just handed you a bag of Jo Jo Bees. Instead, they would talk about it to get your mouth watering. Then they’d describe the store they were going to buy it in and talk about the different colors and flavors in the bag and even where it would be hanging in the store.

Then they’d calmly explain that you’d get some if you were good all the way to exit 67. Then you’d have to be good through four hours of a painful museum exhibition. Then you’d have to be not just ‘good’ but ‘excitedly participating’ during a 10 mile hike in the boiling buggy hot North Carolina foothills. Basically, they’d continually up the ante until you thought there wasn’t a hope of a snowball’s chance that you’d actually get the Jo Jo Bees. Then, and only then, would your Mother rustle open the bag and dole out five measly candies total. Here’s where they’d watch to see how you divided it among four children and when you reached your hand up for more, your Dad would grab the bag and eat the rest to ‘teach you to share.’

It was tortuous. But, thinking back: I realize we looked forward to those Jo Jo Bees more than the actual trip to Disneyland. We were so mentally occupied we barely noticed the fourteen hours of driving done that day. Good tactic – I apply it in my own household today.

Torturing children with painful music will help build team camaraderie
‘Do wop’ music played at volume ten with parents croaking along can make a child do absolutely anything. I have such bad memories of it that if I hear ‘Do Wop’ music today I start to shiver and have to excuse myself to the bathroom. As children, we would agree to just about anything to get it to stop. A rousing patriotic sing-along was just fine. We’d happily hum along to everything from ‘America the Beautiful’, to ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ to ‘Tis Good to be Simple’ (though the Amish connotation annoyed me).

We would agree to quietly play board games or ‘eye spy with my little eye’ just to make sure they didn’t turn that music back on. I personally felt the effectiveness of this tactic and have updated it to use today with my children. I threaten cheesy early 80’s music (Bee Gees or Karen Carpenter are good) and singing along. If all else fails, I pop in Broadway tunes. Annie’s ‘The Sun will come out’ or ‘Put on a Happy Face’ really can’t be beat. I guarantee - and your money back - that your children will behave after Annie.

Electronic entertainment is your trump card
Nowadays, people plunk on the DVD player just to drive to the grocery store. I have no issue with that on its face, but if you do this you must be aware of the fact that you are ostensibly spoiling your only true trump card. My advise regarding the DVD player is twofold: 1) separate earphones for the entire family so you can put yours on, not plug them in and smile and ignore everyone; and 2) As Benedict Arnold said, ‘don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes.’ That’s right, don’t pull the proverbial trigger. Hold on until your children are rolling their heads on the back of the headrest and their eyes are crossed to whites in utter boredom: Then and only then should you start the debate on the movie to be seen. If they can’t agree you simply give them a glimpse of the Holy Grail (AKA the DVD player) and then tuck it back under the seat.

I’d suggest getting a splitter for your DVD machine that will allow up to 4 earphones to be plugged in (that is unless you can afford the space, time and money for each child to have his/her own machine. Even if you can, I wouldn’t recommend it because it cuts out some of your bargaining time). Don’t forget to charge up the battery at your hotel or you’ll have to use the car charger the next day.

Exploit the ubiquitous ‘fear of the child’ for upgrades
When you have reached the end of your journey for the day and are checking into a hotel, make sure to register with the thinnest woman with perfect nails and jewelry or a man with similar looks (really). My highly scientific factual research has found that these people are least likely to have children of their own and; therefore, most likely to take your threats seriously. As a seasoned parent, you can certainly think of phrases that will best motivate front desk reservation agents, so I’ll just give you a few examples:

‘Do you think we can have the free breakfast buffet delivered to our room with some Bloody Mary Mix and two classes of Vodka? Poor Theodora here tends to slop her food all over her face and then stick her tongue out like a cow and lick the combination of food and boogers off her face. When she’s done with that she usually throws her plate upside down on the floor, strips, and covers her entire body in the remaining food. We don’t like to inhibit her creative expression.’

‘Can we possibly get a free shuttle ride to the next continent? Our car broke down out front by the main entrance and we were thinking of setting up camp here using tents with the baby’s diapers. We’re traveling en route to a family reunion: the Clampetts.’

‘If you don’t mind, we’ll have a room in the quiet section of the hotel. Otherwise, Junior here will wake up like he always does. He’ll screech his little lungs out from about midnight to dawn and the only way to stop him is to turn on Barney volume 100. It at least makes him pause a few seconds before starting back up.’

Once you’ve memorized lines like these, you too, can be treated like The Donald and Melana while checking into the Comfort Inn.