"Are We There Yet?"

   Are We There Yet?

Suzanne Marsh

1960

“I don’t want her to go!”

“She is going, that is the end of it right here, right now, Behave yourself.”

It was the summer of 1960, it was a family vacation or so my parents indicated, however the glitch was, we were taking my cousin Sandy. Sandy, like her sisters was a whinny kid. The very thought of spending an entire week with was more than I could stand. I was eleven, already getting into all sorts of trouble. Sandy was simply an obstacle I had not planned on. We stopped in Utica for the night, the next morning, Sandy, her bag packed and ready to go on vacation. I pouted the first half of the morning until mom decided I had better quit while I was ahead. I hadn’t really been misbehaving up until that juncture.

Back in the day there were no seat belts however parents did have enough sense to be sure their children were always seated. I sat on the opposite side of the car, watching the scenery go by. The further up into the Catskill Mountains we went the more bored I became. It was time to make Sandy miserable. I gave her a good hard pinch, she jumped, my mom scowled. I sat and watched more scenery go by. I was beginning to tempt fate. I gave Sandy an elbow in the ribs, she simply ignored me. She had brothers and sisters whom she would ignore if she so chose. I was just her pesky cousin.

Time seemed to drag by as we stared out opposite windows, not saying much to each other. Never one to be silent for long, I decided to give her another pinch. Mom turned around to see me sitting in the back seat looking out the window. Sandy wasn’t quite sure how to deal with me. I was sneaky at worst and mean at my best. I tried a new tact:

“Hey, we could call different license plates see how many we can spot.”

Sandy gave me one of those ‘oh grow up looks’ she was one year older than me. Mom thought that was a good idea:

“Look, there is one from Texas.”

I mumbled under my breath; ‘yeah, lets drop Sandy there, then go on vacation.’

Mom gave me a rather withering look. I wasn’t finished tormenting Sandy, not yet.

Mom always packed lunches, that was her first mistake. She made ham and Swiss cheese and peanut butter and jelly. I disliked mustard on my sandwich, I knew mom had one for me with just butter, ham and cheese. She accidentally gave it to Sandy, who already had taken a huge bite out of it. That did it for me. I yelled and threw a temper tantrum in the car. Mom, took the sandwich she had given me, took a napkin and wiped off the mustard. Sandy thought that was hysterical and began to laugh:

“Mustard adds taste to the sandwich, right Aunt Lou Lou?”

“Yes, Sandy it does but apparently Jean does not think so.”

My mom by this time had, had enough of antics for the moment. She told me to knock it off and sit there quietly. I did momentarily.

After lunch, mom gave us each a bottle of orange pop. I preferred grape back in the day.

“I don’t want orange, I want grape.”

Dad, was quiet, that could only mean one thing, he was going to start yelling because mom could not control the situation. I sat quietly for several minutes. Dad hit a bump and Sandy wore a half bottle of orange pop. She screamed; mom grabbed napkins quickly handing them to Sandy. I sat there smugly watching Sandy as she attempted to dry her legs with the towels. The problem was she became rather sticky much to my amusement and mom’s dismay. Dad was by no means about to stop; we had been on the road for just over two hours.

My next move to make Sandy miserable enough to want to go home was simple, at least to me. Sandy, hated to be ignored, she got enough of that at home. Her brothers were always teasing then ignoring her. I decided that was fool proof. I sat watching a hawk circle its prey on the ground, while I circled my prey in the car:

“Hey, Sandy” I began.

“You have an orange stain on your shirt. I wonder how it got there.”

Sandy sat quietly trying to think of a smart come back, she smiled as she replied:

“I always wear orange pop on my shirt. It seems to go with the rest of my outfit.”

My mom turned around to glare at me, then at Sandy:

“Will you two behave, we still have at least another hour and a half before we arrive at

the motel.”

I started to open my mouth then shut it abruptly. I knew if I started the: “when are we going to get

there” thing my mom would tell me to knock it off.

Back in the day cars did not have air conditioners, so we drove with all the windows open. Sandy and I did share one thing in common a dislike of bees and flies. I was sitting there for a change behaving myself when a bee flew in. It was a ‘yellow jacket’, I had been stung by one last summer and was not overly eager to share the car with that insect. The moment I saw it I began screaming, then Sandy joined the chorus. Mom took a newspaper and swatted at the bee. It flew out the window, no doubt wondering about the crazies it had encountered. After that we simmered down at least for a short while.

I have always been a practical joker, most of my pranks were harmless just annoying. Annoying is the key word. I have been a nail bitter for years, it drove my mom nuts. I began to bite off my thumb nail, I spit it toward Sandy:

“Aunt Lou Lou, Jean is biting her nails and spitting it at me.”

“Just ignore her she’ll stop.”

Ignoring me was easier said than done. I bit off the pointer nail next, actually I repeated the same process again; Sandy her face beginning to turn a bright scarlet said in that high pitched whinny voice:

“Aunt Lou Lou make her stop this is disgusting.”

Mom was about at the end of her patience when the car pulled into the Pine Motel parking lot. It was dad’s turn to give me one of those withering looks that all parents give their children. I asked dad in my sweetest voice:

“Are we there yet?"