

Again, a road trip.
But no longer the seatbelt-less, high-heel, buttoned down tucked, bows on pigtails, paper map, stop for a single precious photo to be developed months hence.
And yet, my no-longer-the-driver parent whose bladder had finally shrank to the size of my childhood twisted legs and I REALLY need to go’s still refused to accept the wisdom of pre-planned, restroom stops, reservations, or the authoritative feminine voice of my GPS.
