Sketch by me — road-trip mood.
Think back on your most memorable road trip?
When I was about 7 or 8, my parents decided to get married in Mexico City. So we made a road trip down to Mexico and a road trip back.
My dad had this Monte Carlo — dark silver with a red top. We drove that thing all the way down. We hit Michoacán and a bunch of places in between. Simpler times. It was cool.
I was the asthmatic kid, and I still remember my dad telling everybody: “Let him drink water before all you guys.” Like he was trying to protect me while we crossed the desert. That’s a small thing, but it stayed with me.
On the way back, we brought my mom’s younger sister, Norma. She was pregnant at the time with my cousin Jesús. I remember one of the pit stops at a motel somewhere on the way to California — I don’t even know where exactly, but we were near the desert and it was beautiful. The sky was dark blue, and you could feel the breeze in the air. It felt like the world had room to breathe back then. Less stress. More color.
Then back in the car — tacos, burgers, a shitload of water, and the hot sun beating down like it had something to prove. It was me, my mom, my dad, my dad’s friend driving, my uncle Rogelio, and Norma.
I also remember the border being tense. Norma got nervous, said the wrong thing, and they pulled her aside. I was a kid, so I don’t remember every detail, but I remember the feeling — that tightness in the air, like everyone was holding their breath.
But what I do remember clearly is the end of the day: the sun coming down, the sky turning, the breeze getting cool again. That moment is still in my head like a photograph.
It was a great time, man. A simpler time. Somewhere in the mid-80s.
Question: What road trip memory still has color for you?
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