Last week I drove my elderly parents on a three-day road trip that felt strikingly similar to AC/DC’s song, “Highway to Hell” — except instead of roaring engines and rebellious anthems, we had to be on the constant look-out for my mother’s favorite restaurant and her occasional “Oh no, not another U-turn!”
It all came about because in a moment of insanity, I volunteered to drive them to my youngest nephew’s wedding in Blue Ridge, Georgia. The bride and groom really really wanted us to go, and so I found myself on the road again. (Faithful readers will recall it was only a few weeks ago that I drove home from Florida.)
The first day on the road was a whirlwind of bathroom breaks and Mom reliving every family story. She recalled the one from the early 1970s, when someone threw a tennis shoe at her car while traveling through Cincinnati. It was an apparent fit of road rage although Mom doesn’t recall what made the other driver mad.
I said, “Wouldn’t it be a great column if someone threw a tennis shoe at me while driving through Cincinnati?” We all agreed it would, but it didn’t happen. Darn!
Next came navigation. As we entered Kentucky, it became clear that the GPS wasn’t the only directional device in play. My parents had their own systems: Dad, who’s mobility challenged, claimed to remember the route from past trips. Mom, whose eyesight is fading, insisted I read aloud every road sign and keep her informed about how many lanes we had to drive on.
Once, twice, maybe three times… — who’s counting— I took a wrong turn and promptly made a quick U-turn.
“Another U-turn?” Mom said, stressing the word “another.”
I reminded her of the times she got lost when I was a kid and we stopped at gas stations for directions. I also repeated the old saying: “People who live in glass houses should’t throw stones!”
Then there was the recurring question, “Where should we stop and eat?” Mom doesn’t like fast food and really likes Bob Evans restaurants. This wasn’t an issue until the second and third day of the trip when there wasn’t a Bob Evans off any of the exits. We looked and looked, wasting time to please her. After all, she is 88, and I aim to please. Finally, she consented to eat at a Shoney’s instead, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief.
As we got closer to our destination, I navigated through the hills and sharp curves of the mountains. That’s when bathroom breaks became the stuff of legends. Finally, after about an hour of going round and round the mountains, we saw a sign, “Tammy’s ice cream ahead.”
“Praise the Lord!” Mom said.
Shortly thereafter, we pulled into a general store and ice cream shack with restrooms. I expected the worse, but was pleasantly surprised at the cleanliness of the ladies’ room.
“Are you Tammy?” I asked the store clerk.
She said she was and I applauded her efforts to run a clean establishment.
“We try,” she said.
I then decided to warn of her about the van load of family coming her way.
“They’re about an hour behind us,” I said. “If you see a woman who’s even shorter than me come through, it’s my sister.”
Tammy laughed and said she’d keep a lookout.
Finally, after a half a century on the road (or just three days of driving), we arrived in Blue Ridge, Georgia, greeted by the warmth of southern hospitality and the aroma of BBQ.
Attending my nephew’s extravagant wedding and reception at INOLA, a wonderful wedding venue, combined Williamsburg charm with contemporary mountain life. It was truly an unforgettable experience, highlighted by stunning blue and white hydrangeas that adorned every corner and table of the magnificent grounds.
The ceremony took place in a cozy chapel and the entire wedding party looked fabulous. My nephew, so handsome, and the bride so lovely in her lace wedding gown and veil. My nephew teared up as the bride’s father walked her down the aisle. Of course I teared up, too. I can’t ever get through a wedding without crying.
A garden reception followed, offering an array of delectable hors d’oeuvres and an impressive selection of fancy drinks that set the tone for a truly elegant evening. As dusk fell, we transitioned to the main reception, where an abundance of flowers and candles created a breathtaking atmosphere. It all seemed very magical.
After being served dinner, a DJ spun energetic tunes and everyone was drawn to the dance floor to celebrate the joyous occasion. It was a night filled with love, laughter, and memorable moments.
Faithful readers may recall my nephew is a dancer with the Atlanta Ballet, as is his beautiful bride. Consequently many of the guests were also dancers and it was fun watching them dance the night away.
Nephew thanked me for coming and driving his Grammy and Grandpa down for his wedding.
“They couldn’t have made it on their own,” he said. “I love you so much Aunt Shelley.”
Suddenly, it was all worth it. I joked that I expected him to name his first child after me, but I was very pleased and glad I made the trip.
Mom and Dad were exhausted by 9 p.m., so I grabbed three wonderfully decorated cupcakes in a take-home box and told the valet we were ready to go. As I opened the car door, the bottom of the box gave way and my cupcakes landed upside down on the the gravel road.
“Oh no! Not my cupcakes!” I said.
At first, in a crazy moment, I thought, “I can pick the pebbles off and eat them.” But then sanity returned and the valet graciously offered to throw them away.
“No cupcakes,” I moaned all the way back to the hotel.
The next morning, I packed up the old folks and announced we were going to try to make it home in two days, not three. They agreed and we bonded over the common goal: making it home in one piece.
As I wrapped up this wild ride, I can confidently say the trip was part road trip, part comedy show, and all love. This journey may have caused a few gray hairs — mostly on my head — but the laughter and memories we’ve created are worth every mile. Here’s to weddings, wacky adventures and the enduring spirit of family.
Safe travels, wherever your road may lead.