Me, standing on the beach.
It seems like the most memorable parts of family vacations are those that do not go as planned.
When I was 11, my mom took my brother and me on a vacation down to Florida. My dad was not able to come because we had dairy cows and he could not find anybody who was willing to milk and feed them while we were gone.
It was the first major vacation my brother and I had ever gone on. Prior to the trip, we had not even left the state of Wisconsin more than a handful of times.
Since my dad was not going, and I was the older of the two kids, I was designated the official navigator of the trip. My dad gave me a run-through of how the US highway system works. Basically all he told me was that odd numbered interstates run North-South, even numbered run East-West, and that those named with three digits are bypasses.
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The Reason Planned Travel is not for me.
I am fairly well traveled when it comes to exploring the United States or Canada. However, my family has never been the type to plan our trips down to the minute. I always have enjoyed the spur of the moment adventures this can lead to.
I can remember my first big road trip. The family decided the night before we left that my mom was taking my little brother and me on a vacation. The next morning we packed and jumped in the car, stopping at our local Shopko to pick up a few things we were missing. After the shopping trip, we sat in the car in the parking lot and decided to drive to Florida.
My first real experience with a planned trip was this past spring break. My Bible Study group, Lutheran Student Fellowship, decided to go on a mission trip to New Orleans. We decided to stay the night in Memphis, Tennessee on the drive down and again on the return trip.
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Students from Lutheran Student Fellowship volunteering at a Horse Rescue Ranch.