When a childhood road trip turned stormy, humorist Jennifer McGaha imagined the worst–and her brother only made matters worse.
It was mid-July 1977, and we were cruising down I-40 in a 1969 Ford LTD on our way from North Carolina to the Grand Canyon. My father did not believe in listening to music while driving. He wore a light blue cap that said “Olin” in darker blue on the front, and he stared straight ahead, his eyes focused on the road. My mother angled toward him, one foot tucked underneath the other thigh. She filed her fingernails while she chattered.