I did something this summer that taught me a lot about teenage boys. I took a road trip with my two sons and my nephew. It was...interesting. And stinky. And LOOOOOOONG.
|Chevy Stock Photo - forgot to take pics of my rented Impala!|
So here's the trip in a nutshell:
We bought fireworks. The boys farted. We got pulled over for speeding. The boys farted. We sang Thrift Shop, Can't Hold Us, Radioactive, Cruise, Brave, Locked Out of Heaven, We Own the Night. Love Somebody and lots of other current hits. And the boys farted. I went old school and sang ABBA, B52's, Aretha Franklin and ZZ Top. The boys freaked out and begged me to switch back to their new music. Then they farted. We drove, we stopped for gas and food, we took road trip pictures, we hunted for garnets and we talked more than any of us have talked since they were all born. We talked about Idaho, we talked about Arizona. The boys talked about all the things they wanted to say, but didn't, to the cop when he gave me the speeding ticket. We talked about school, we talked about politics, we talked about the civil war and we talked about...farts. We laughed at a thousand different comedians (praise be to Sirius XM Radio for providing me with some fantastic entertainment options! Best car radio experience EVER!) while the boys memorized every single G-rated stand-up routine I let them listen to, then repeated them over and over and over again. We visited friends and went swimming, we visited grandparents and did some target practice and celebrated birthdays and lost new shoes. And then? They farted. OH. MY. HECK. How they farted! And just when I thought their tanks were on empty and I might have a reprieve from the poot wars? The shoes started to come off. FREAK how do feet get that stinky!? Had we not had the sun roof to keep the air circulation at maximum capacity? I might have died, people. Okay. Maybe not died, but I could have passed out. Okay, fine. Maybe not passed out, but I might have gagged once or twice. And who wants to gag while they are driving? I mean seriously, how is that even fun?
|Looking for Garnets in Ely, Nevada|
|Stretching the legs in AZ|
|Hangin' out with Grandpa John|
So am I exaggerating about the smell and the volume of odor that was emitted from three teenage boys? Maybe just a tiny bit about the volume. But the smell? Nope. No way. Nuh-uh. Not even. It was foul, my friends. I'm sorry, Budget car guy, if the cloth seats absorbed that stench. I hope you weren't hit in the face by a wall of stink when you opened the door to start cleaning after the Impala sat in the sun for a few hours.
Despite all the miles, the flatulence and the toe cheese, we had a great trip. I got to know my boys and my nephew on a whole different level. I got to hear them sing at the top of their lungs and laugh hysterically at ridiculous things. I watched them bond over shared interests and ideas. I listened to their plans for the future as they talked to each other about school and sports and Scout Camp. And I finally started to see them, all of them, as capable people who have aspirations and hopes and dreams of their own instead of little boys who need to be watched over and cared for every single minute of the day. It was a pretty revealing look at who my sons and my nephew have become over the last 11-14 years. And can I just say how happy I am with what I saw? I have been blessed with such good boys. And it only took me 2500 miles and some singed nose hairs to remember that.