Earl and I are on our way to suburban Philly to spend some quality holiday time with his family. I always find it quite interesting to be amongst the traveling public, especially around the holidays, because there are a number of people that reserve their adventures for exclusively this time of year and don’t otherwise leave their little world. I find watching these folks fascinating. They get breathless over the fact that there is a Sbarros at selected Thruway service areas. (I hate to see what happens when the Outback Steakhouses open at service areas in the mid part of next year. They’ll pee their pants with excitement.) They adhere to the posted speed limit like glue. Their hands are at the 10 and 2 positions on the steering wheel.
Earl is driving this morning as a holiday treat to me. Surprisingly I’m not clinging to the roof of the car in terror as I occasionally do when he drives. I claim to be the world’s best driver because quite frankly I am and I think that in turn makes me one of the world’s worst passengers. But over the years I’ve learned to calm down and keep my mouth shut. And that is why I’m blogging while he’s driving.
Tomorrow night we’ll leave the family party around 8 or 9 p.m., getting us home close to 2 a.m. It’ll be pitch black as we drive through the Poconos and there will be little to see. Buzzed on sugar and Christmas goodies from the party, I’ll probably stop at Hickory Run for a quick McJolt and I’ll get to see how surly people get when they have to drive on Christmas Eve. Maybe I’ll invite Santa Claus to go drag racing through Scranton. Also kidding aside, I actually love the annual Christmas Eve trek very much.