We took many family trips. The other day I was thinking about root canals, leprosy, IRS audits and family trips. I think it was Churchill who said, “We have fought in the valleys, by the rivers, and on the mountain.” That sounds a lot like some of our family trips.

First of all, I have three daughters. Now the reason I have three daughters is I lied when Penny and I were dating. She asked if I loved the mall, and I said, “Oh, yes, I love the mall. It is wonderful just to watch you shop.” God was listening, and he turned to the birth angel and said, “Charles is lying. We need to teach him a lesson. Give him three girls so he will spend his life at the mall.”

So not only do I go to the mall a lot, but I also live in a girls’ dorm. We have so much hair spray in our house that everything sticks in mid air. The only thing male in my house is the mailbox. Sometimes when I need some male companionship, I confess I have gone out and actually talked to the mailbox. I’m sure one day I will die of pantyhose strangulation.

I did pretty well around the house, but trips were difficult. First you have to understand male-female differences. You see, a man starts a trip thinking, “How many miles can I make in one day?” A woman is thinking, “How many times can I stop in one day?”

A woman just doesn’t understand competition. Penny will say, “Let’s stop at the next rest area,” and I’ll say, “Not until I pass that Ford.” She says, “What Ford?” “The one that passed me 30 minutes ago that I’ve been trying to catch.” A woman just can’t understand how a man can’t relax at a rest stop because he sees all those cars racing by that he spent the last two hours passing. It’s downright discouraging.

Then you add children to the trip. There is something about two adults and three children in a metal cylinder for 1,000 miles that brings out the devil in everyone. Any trip over 100 miles can help you understand why some animals eat their young. Kids say things like, “She is breathing my air,” or, “Her foot is on my side.” After the 10-minute quiet game, you invent counting games. Two hours into the trip, you have counted cows, signs, letters in signs, 18-wheelers who honk and don’t honk, Volkswagens, and black Volkswagens (they count more than anything else). By now you have told the kids to count on being murdered if you have to correct them one more time.

Then your wife says, “We appear to be lost.” Of course a man is never lost. He is just temporarily misplaced. The word “lost” to men means to drive faster. A man thinks God put something inside his head like a heat-seeking device, and if he will just drive faster he will find what he is looking for. That’s why a man will go thirsty, his wife will go hungry, and the children will wet their pants, but he will never stop to ask for directions although he is as lost as a ball in tall weeds.

Well, I could go on and tell you about the time we left Penny at the rest stop, but you get the picture. Family trips — they were awful. I wonder why I miss them so much.