I fondly recall summer holidays with my family. But not only do I remember being there, I actually remember getting there. We drove to all our holiday destinations, no matter how long it took. The highlights for my brother and I were roadside restaurants and pit stops to refuel and stretch our legs. The fun didn't start when we checked into the hotel or arrived at Aunt Kim's beach house - the fun started the minute our station wagon pulled out of the driveway.
I have to give my parents all the credit. They love to drive. And if you love to drive, you know how to kill time for two kids sitting in the back seat with an imaginary line drawn down the middle so Brother doesn't encroach on Sister's space and vice-versa. That doesn't mean we didn't complain. We complained plenty. But we also played miniature travel games with pieces way too small for even a kid's hand to hold; we counted license plates; we sang Neil Diamond and John Denver tunes until our throats hurt; we tallied up Volkswagen Beetle cars for points based on colour.
We also complained (did I mention that already?).
When mum and dad weren't trying to squelch the whining from the back seat with a new game, we entertained ourselves. There was that memorable time my brother and I tried to see who could stuff the most mini-marshmallows into their mouth (my brother won with 88); and the time I threw my money away in a cafe's rubbish bin and had to sift through the litter to retrieve it.
Nowadays, planes are the preferred mode of transport because it's faster. Our generation has so many more choices, but families have less time to spend together.
There's a bit of magic about piling the family into a car, strapping the luggage to the top and driving off. It's time together without distractions. Time to talk, laugh, argue ... even stuff marshmallows in your mouth.