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Trips for Families With Teenagers

By Wickham Boyle
April 6, 2006
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Courtesy Wickham Boyle
Long days on the road leave plenty of time to open up.

Teenagers, and especially teenage boys, don't exactly go begging to hang out with Mom for a week straight. So when my 16-year-old son Henry brought up the idea, I jumped at the chance to spend time with him and only him.

Henry had just spent the year away from our New York City apartment, living with his tennis coach in Los Angeles and seeing if he had what it takes to compete on the junior circuit. It was a tough year for him; he was plagued with injuries and finally stopped playing. In the midst of disappointments on the court, Henry discovered a new passion: American history. Something clicked, and suddenly the struggles, people, and events he had been reading about seemed more than just stuff he had to learn for school. Henry wanted to find out more about the U.S., hence the request for a cross-country road trip on the move back home.

Over the years, I had found it increasingly more difficult to connect to Henry than to his older sister, Wilson. We gals could yap away about clothes, relationships, or social justice, and laugh or fight with equal abandon, but Henry rarely seemed all that interested in sharing. "You wish you had two girls," he'd say when pushed about giving us the silent treatment. "Two chatty girls."

In the hope of finding out more about my son--and scoring major points as a cool mom--I let Henry plan the journey. He researched the routes, chose whatever detours caught his fancy, and was free to blast hip-hop by Shyne and Jay-Z. Before entering his world, I made two requests: I wanted to visit my 90-year-old father in Durham, N.C., and for the duration of the trip, we wouldn't eat in a single fast-food restaurant.

Henry had his driving permit and was excited to pilot our giant rented SUV, which we dubbed the Dinosaur. It got awful gas mileage, but was perfect for hauling home a year's worth of detritus. The day after school ended we hit the road, heading east with the Dinosaur full of dirty laundry, far too many sneakers, five tennis rackets, loads of books and CDs, and a not-so-miniature minifridge.

The hillsides in the desert just beyond L.A. were covered with hundreds of high-tech white windmills. Their metal arms whipped in furious circles, and when we got out to switch seats, the wind they created nearly blew me off my feet. "The windmills are really cool," said Henry as he slowly navigated the dusty road. "My generation is going to face terrible shortages. I'm afraid we won't be able to drive or do anything because the resources will all be used up." I'd somehow forgotten how much I loved this kid.

We arrived at Joshua Tree National Park as the sun began to dip. On a hike to a promontory that we called "the thumb" (Keys View on the park map), Henry ran ahead, arms and fleet feet pumping up and down rocks. I arrived on top a little later, catching my breath as Henry pointed out a tiny deer mouse eating seeds in the nook of one of the eponymous Joshua trees.

The rest of the week unfurled with a mix of natural wonders, American kitsch, Southern cities, sunsets in the rearview mirror, afternoon naps in green fields, and snippets of conversation that added up to genuine discussions. We arrived at the rim of the Grand Canyon at sunset, and saw velvet-antlered elk the next morning. At a Native American swap meet, Henry dished a few tidbits he had learned in history class. "Our government herded 9,000 Native Americans into Fort Sumner in the 1860s," he said. "Can you imagine walking with your babies, animals, and all your possessions in this heat, without any water?"

In New Mexico, we saw a drive-up liquor store. "I don't think that's such a good idea," Henry joked. He then opened up, telling me about driving a friend's car home--without a license--from a party because the friend had been drinking. I told him that all things considered I was proud of him for not drinking and for facing a difficult decision.

At some point, Henry bought a tape of '80s tunes at a gas station. "Hey, Ma!" he said. "It was two bucks!" I sang every word to "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" and "Lucky Star" to Henry's feigned disgust. But soon enough he was singing along with me.

In Texas we listened as someone on a Christian radio station proclaimed Harry Potter a dire danger to America's youth. After eating fantastic steaks at Cattlemen's Steakhouse on the outskirts of Oklahoma City's old stockyards, we waddled across the street to a shop where Henry found the perfect belt buckle: a huge gold and silver oval of a screaming eagle--"cowboy bling," in Henry's words.

We hit 2,000 miles in Memphis and celebrated with a delicious rack of ribs at Corky's. Billboards on I-40 in Tennessee promised the World's Largest Fireworks Supermarket, a must-stop for Henry, especially with July 4th around the corner.

In Durham, Henry told Grandpa that we'd been to the Grand Canyon. "The big ditch?" said Grandpa. "Is that still there?" I told my father that a lot of folks ask the same question about him, and we all laughed.

We hit 3,000 miles at Washington, D.C., by which time I was singing "Pass my cash!" along with Shyne. The Dinosaur hit 3,251 miles on the odometer as we rolled into New York, with Journey crooning "Don't Stop Believin' " on the radio. And when we finally arrived at our apartment--totally exhausted, excited to be out of the car, with a blur of images in our heads--I knew we had plenty to talk about.

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In Tight With the Locals

You learn a lot about a place based on what the people drink, and how they drink it. BT assistant editor (and former bartender) David LaHuta eagerly volunteered for a round of taste tests. How does each go down? David's face says it all. Italy: Sambuca Made with: Licorice and elderberries, along with a mix of herbs--anise in particular Best served: After dinner, in a small glass with three coffee beans--called con mosca ("with flies")--that symbolize health, wealth, and happiness. The anise aids digestion Tippling style: Sip it or drink it in one gulp Say cheers! Salute (sah-loo-tay) Brazil: Cachaça Made with: Fermented sugarcane juice Best served: With sugar and muddled lime in a tangy caipirinha, Brazil's unofficial national cocktail. Alternatively, aged cachaça, which tastes somewhat like a high-quality white rum, makes a nice aperitif Tippling style: An aged cachaça should be enjoyed slowly at room temperature Say cheers! Saúde (sow-ooh-juh) Russia: Vodka Made with: Wheat, rye, or barley malt; most Russian vodkas no longer use potatoes Best served: In shot glasses, poured from a bottle shared by friends (or strangers) Tippling style: Down it in a gulp. If you're with a group, everyone should toss it back at the same time. Say "choot-choot" ("just a little") for smaller portions Say cheers! Za vas (zah vahs) Greece: Ouzo Made with: Pressed grapes mixed with star anise, cloves, coriander, and other spices Best served: As an aperitif, with Greek-style tapas such as fried fish, cheese, and stewed vegetables Tippling style: Savor slowly in between bites and conversation. To lessen the drink's bite and potency, add water until the mixture turns milky white Say cheers! Gia'sou (yah-shu) Ireland: Whiskey Made with: Malted and unmalted barley, and yeast Best served: As a pre- or post-meal cocktail, the old-fashioned way: straight, at room temperature. Adding half a teaspoon of water helps release the honey-like flavor Tippling style: Sip and savor from a snifter or nosing glass Say cheers! Sláinte (slahn-cha) Japan: Sake Made with: Rice, yeast, and a mold called koji-kin Best served: With food that's not all that spicy. There's an unofficial rule about not serving sake with rice (it's rather redundant), though sushi of all kinds is fine Tippling style: Sip like wine. Tradition holds that glasses are to be refilled (by someone else) the moment they're empty Say cheers! Kampai (kahm-pie) Scandinavia: Aquavit Made with: Potato or grains, flavored with caraway, dill, cumin, citrus, and fennel Best served: Chilled, with smorgasbord Tippling style: It's usually served in a tiny, stemmed glass, and you can down the whole thing in one gulp or take your time. Have a beer handy as a chaser, to complement aquavit's strong, sharp, and sweet flavor Say cheers! Skål (skahl) Mexico: Tequila Made with: The fermented juice of blue agave plants Best served: Completo, meaning alongside sangrita, a spicy tomato-orange chaser. As for "lick it, slam it, and suck it" with salt and a lime? Leave that for spring breakers Tippling style: Wash around in the mouth and savor, like a good cognac Say cheers! Salud (sahl-ood) France: Absinthe Made with: Wormwood, anise, herbs, and flowers Best served: In a slotted spoon on top of a glass of absinthe, place a cube of sugar and pour water until the sugar's dissolved Tippling style: Take your time. Modern versions of the once-taboo drink are not hallucinogenic, but many still sport triple-digit proofs Say cheers! À votre santé (ah vote sahn-tay) Iceland: Brennivín Made with: Potatoes and cumin Best served: When you feel the need to prove you can drink (and eat) anything. The fiery liqueur, nicknamed Black Death, is traditionally served with hákarl, or fermented shark meat. Together they constitute the Icelandic "shark shooter" Tippling style: Polish it off in one gulp, and cross it off your list Say cheers! Skál (skahl)

On the Road Again, and Again

During long journeys across the country, the authors of two new memoirs searched (respectively) for down-home grub and a free ride. We asked them to give advice to anyone hoping to walk--or eat--in their footsteps. In Two for the Road (houghtonmifflinbooks.com, $24), authors Jane and Michael Stern reminisce about rodeos, state fairs, cheap motels, and more than 70,000 meals they ate while penning their bestseller, Roadfood. What do they look for? Restaurants open only for breakfast and lunch, because these are places where the locals come to chat 'n' chew. Old menus with gravy stains or barbecue-sauce fingerprints, because they've been used by the multitudes. Statues of cows, pigs, roosters, or crabs on the roof, because they're irresistible (and the food's usually terrific). A jukebox with Hank Williams songs, because the menu probably hasn't been modernized either, and you can count on country-comfort food. Based on his experience thumbing rides all over the world, including a recent cross-country hitchhiking adventure described in Riding With Strangers (ipgbook.com, $23), Elijah Wald advises would-be hitchers to: Smile and appear clean, like you're trying to get somewhere rather than wandering. Display a sign when appropriate; no ride is too short works particularly well. Choose your spots carefully, where you can be seen as far off as possible and drivers have plenty of space to pull over. Let the driver set the mood. Be quiet if the driver's not talkative. Pass on drivers who seem drunk or who spook you out for any reason. Another ride will come along.

Confessions Of... An Amusement Park Employee

Melissa Mayntz worked at Cedar Point Amusement Park in Sandusky, Ohio, during five summers between 1996 and 2003. Keeping it clean I had several different jobs at the park, but my favorite was one most employees hated: the sweep. Sweeps are always walking; my record was 22 miles--and yes, I had a pedometer that day. As a sweep, you're the one called to clean up vomit puddles and spilled sodas. But I loved the exercise, the freedom to roam the park, and the fact that I never knew what I'd find: discarded socks, kids' retainers, and one time, an unopened can of corn. The job does have its hazards--namely, cigarette butts. Sweeps gather hundreds of them, and smoldering cigarettes often rub up against napkins in the dustpan. While doing the "dustpan jig" to stomp out the flames, I set myself on fire more times than I care to mention. It shouldn't have to be said, but if you smoke, please use the ashtrays. It's not like they're hard to find--there's one near the entrance to every ride, shop, and restaurant. Lines, long and short Most guests assume the wait for rides is shorter early and late in the season, but that's not entirely true. While lines tend to be long in summer, that's also when staff levels are highest. A fully staffed coaster runs efficiently, with up to four employees checking harnesses, an operator at the entrance to measure guests' heights, and a quick turnover of riders. In spring or early fall, however, rides may have only two employees checking harnesses and no one at the entrance. The extra seconds that it takes the smaller staff to do its jobs add up. In terms of shortest wait time, your best bet is weekdays in early June, when there are plenty of college students already at work, but grammar and high schools are still in session. Standing tall Ride operators have a love-hate relationship with the candy cane, the striped pipe Cedar Point uses for height measurements. Guests try to circumvent the system, and we've seen it all: stuffed shoes, 8-year-olds with platform heels, ponytails rising four inches above the scalp. It's unwise to try to fool the candy canes. Parents with children who just make the cut should visit the operations office at Cedar Point for a height measurement. Kids who qualify will be given a wristband to save them from hassles at ride entrances. Shutdowns Most ride delays are the result of computer "setups," in which the ride must reset after a stoppage. Setups usually last less than 10 minutes, and operators don't typically bother offering explanations. When an operator doles out vague statements such as "We're temporarily closed for mechanical reasons," and "We don't know how long we'll be closed, but we'll reopen as soon as possible," you might want to move on. It's our summer, too Working at an amusement park isn't at all like an extended vacation. I clocked 60-70 hours a week, sometimes with seven days in a row on the job. Roller coasters, while exciting at first, lose their novelty after you've served four open-to-close shifts back-to-back. Still, we employees made our own fun. One summer, while I was cleaning the boats at a ride, a water fight broke out with hoses and buckets. Another season, we created a Fourth of July scavenger hunt, with prizes for spotting the most American flag swimsuits, guests with boiled-lobster sunburns, and identically dressed families.

True Stories

New Prize: $2,000 gift certificate to New England inns!If your True Stories submission is the best one we receive before June 30, 2006, you'll win a $2,000 gift certificate good at more than 300 inns, resorts, and B&Bs throughout New England, courtesy of the New England Inns & Resorts Association. The gift certificate can be used at any member property, including for services charged to the room (such as meals and spa treatments). The prize is valid from September 1, 2006, to August 31, 2007. Subject to availability; nontransferable; nonnegotiable. No blackout dates apply. For more information on the New England Inns & Resorts Association: 603/964-6689, newenglandinnsandresorts.com. How to enter TrueStories@BudgetTravelOnline.com or True Stories, Budget Travel, 530 Seventh Ave., 2nd Fl., New York, NY 10018. We can't return photos. Read the full guidelines. This month's winner This month's winner is Pam Anderson, of Sussex, Wis. Her prize is a pair of Aussie AirPasses, courtesy of Qantas. While in Guanacaste, Costa Rica, my husband, Scott, and I arranged a day trip to Tabacón Hot Springs. After a quick hike, we hurried back for our mineral mud bath. The other guests were already coated in mud and baking in the sun. When we entered the adobe hut for our turn, two Costa Rican men motioned Scott to leave while they studiously painted me from head to toe. Leaving no skin uncovered, they followed very close around my bikini. When I emerged, the other people in our group asked how I got my mud on so perfectly--theirs was streaky and uneven. I said that was how the two Costa Rican men applied it. "What Costa Rican men?" they said. "We were all told to put it on ourselves!" Scott and I never did see those two men again. First You Accept Candy From Strangers, And Now This A friendly gentleman approached me while I was touring Paracas, Peru, with my mother. He was selling candy on the beach, and as I was making my selections, he invited me to his home to meet the family pet--a penguin. A little hesitant, but naturally curious, I followed him down the street, around the corner, and through several alleys. Upon entering his home I was warmly greeted by each member of the family and introduced to their pride and joy, a pet penguin! Christy Bowie, Jacksonville, Fla. She's Never Seen His Jump Shot My coworker Craig, who is 6' 11'', got lots of attention while we were traveling through China. He actually appeared to believe he was some sort of royalty. We were having fun with his newfound celebrity status, allowing the locals to join us in pictures, until we ran into a middle-aged woman who was clearly not impressed. In broken English, she asked Craig who he was and what he did for a living. He claimed to be a famous basketball player. She shook her head and waved him away, clearly disgusted. He asked why she didn't believe him. "You no basketball playah," she said. "You fat like Buddha." Susan Waters, Milan, Mich. Don't Go Chasing Skirts If You Can't Handle The Consequences Studying abroad in London, a few girlfriends and I came across a group of big, burly rugby players in a pub. They were all wearing kilts and partying quite wildly. My friend bet me that they didn't wear underwear--then she went right over and asked them. The entire team flashed us simultaneously. We definitely got our answer. Laurie Johns, Reno, Nev. There's A Rugby Player In London Who Could Use Them On our last day in Vienna, before going to Rome, my husband, daughter, and I were almost out of clean clothes. We had just enough time to run into a Laundromat, where a nice elderly man helped us figure out the machines. Against our protests, he even took his laundry out of the dryer early, so we wouldn't have to wait. We tossed our clean laundry into a suitcase, told the good man we wouldn't forget his kindness, and dashed for the train station. Once we'd settled into our compartment, we started sorting our clean clothes and realized we had something else to remember him by: a pair of his underpants. Maria Goodavage, San Francisco, Calif. You can find more True Stories in the May 2006 issue of Budget Travel magazine.

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