The Longest Four Hours

The Longest Four Hours

Suzanne Marsh

Buffalo, New York, to Dayton, Ohio, is a mere four hours, except for our teenage daughter, who was not overly happy about going to Dayton for the day. We left early Saturday morning, planning to drive straight through, get the fireworks, stop for lunch, and then go home. It was an experience I will never forget. Between what time it is and how much longer, those were the two most popular ones we heard on that long four-hour drive. You would think that a teenager would be better than a two-year-old...not this kid. At seven O’clock, we were up and had breakfast, which was when we thought we would be leaving. Until our teenager got out of bed on time, I had to rouse her and get her moving, or we would never get on the road on time. Teenagers can be a real joy; they can also be a pain in the backside. We finally got underway at nine o’clock that morning.

“Mom, how long is this going to take?”

“It is four hours to Dayton, Ohio, and four hours back. Why don’t you take a nap?” I was hoping for some peace and quiet, that however, did not work out at all:

“Mom, did you bring any gum?”

“No, why?”

“I want something to chew on.”

“I have Tic Tacs in my purse, will one of those do?”

“I guess if I don’t have any other choice.”

“Where is the next bathroom? I have to go?”

“Didn’t you go before we left the house? We are not even anywhere near the first rest area.”

“No, I didn’t have to go then.”

“We can’t just get off the Thruway, then get back on. The tolls are expensive, you are just

going to have to hold it until we get to the rest area.”

“Mom, I don’t think you understand, I have to go NOW!!!!!”

“Are you going to float out the window?”

“No, then we stop at the rest area, we are about fifteen minutes from there now.”

She wasn’t happy, but she had to learn that you go to the bathroom before leaving home; the lesson was just beginning. The moment we arrived at the rest area, she was out of the car running toward the bathrooms!

She returned to the car with a rather pleased look on her face. Clutched in her hand were a pack of gum, several candy bars, and two bottles of soda. I marveled at how she could eat all that and not gain any weight. She opened the car door, handed me two candy bars, one for her dad and one for me. We munched, crossing the New York and Pennsylvania border. Things had been quiet since she returned with the snacks until lunch time, then she began:

“What time is it? When are we stopping to eat? I need the bathroom.” So much for quiet.

“It is fifteen minutes since that last time you asked. I know there are several places to eat at.

that are a half hour away, you can go to the bathroom when we stop for lunch.”

That seemed to placate her temporarily. We drove on Pennsylvania is a very pretty state. She sat quietly watching out the window.”

“Hey Mom and Dad, there goes a Harry’s Place, they have great food. Please, can’t we stop!”

The car continued on as we passed several more eateries; I was getting hungry myself:

“Honey, when are we going to stop for lunch?” My husband turned slightly:

“There is a pizza place just over the Ohio border, we ate there before,e remember?”

“I do now, we haven’t been there in years, what if it is not there any longer?”

He had this odd gleam in his eyes:

“I called and made reservations yesterday, they are still there.” I smiled that he would remember that pizza shack. Our teenager heard the Ohio border, and the “How much longer?” entered the conversation. I thought: ‘Oh no here we go again’, she surprised me:

“Mom, how much further to Dayton? I mean, after we stop for lunch?” This was a new twist; she was actually being courteous:

We will be crossing the Pennsylvania/Ohio border in about ten minutes, and the pizza joint is about ten minutes from the border. The pizza joint was just as my husband and I remembered it, although the small bench apparently had gotten smaller. We sat there eating our pizza, there was no room to move, but oh, what enjoyment. Our daughter thought our sitting together on that bench was the highlight of her trip thus far. Once we finished the pizza, we trudged back to the car. I informed our daughter that it would be another fifty miles before we would arrive at Boxy Fireworks. She simply gave me that “I am bored” look. That was better than what time it is or how much longer, I suppose.

We arrived at Boxy Fireworks at two o’clock EDT. We had made good time thus far. We purchased a good mix of fireworks, especially the type that whistles. Our daughter was even satisfied with the purchases. We paid for the fireworks, then began the trek home to Buffalo, New York; if all worked out well, we would be home in time for dinner. Then Murphy decided to visit, the villain of this story: “if anything can go wrong, it will”; in this instance, it did. Our daughter began to make her usual rumbling noises. She wanted something to drink; she was thirsty after the pizza. My husband told her we would stop at a “C” store as soon as we found one. We drove on as the rumbling noises grew louder! My husband saw a small “C” store and pulled into the parking lot; our daughter jumped out like a rabbit being chased by a dog. She quickly made a purchase of a ninety-two-ounce glass of soda; this did not bode well. She got back in the car, and we settled in for the drive. She had not gone to the bathroom when she purchased that huge glass. She began:

“Mom, how much further to the next store? I have to go to the bathroom NOW!” I turned around to face her:

Why didn’t you go while we were stopped? I have no idea where the next store is.” I glanced over at my husband, who was apparently enjoying her squirming. He told her it would be at least a good hour; also, she should have gone to the bathroom before her return to the car. She was never one to think about consequences this was no exception. My husband continued to drive on; she had at this point drunk three-quarters of the glass:

“Mom, I am going to float away if we don’t stop. Besides, I am too old to have an accident

in the car.” The point was well taken, and he stopped at a truck stop just over the Ohio border. She quickly got out of the car, ran into the “C” store, found the bathroom, and sighed a sigh of relief. The rest of the trip was silent. When she the Walden Gallaria Mall, then the questions:

“How much longer? Are we there yet? I see the Mall and my all-time favorite; what time is it?”