| Vacation time is great each year But there's one part I really fear. That's when my mom gives us this tip, "Next week we're going on the trip." It will begin the same old way, Dad wants to start at break of day. He yells, "We can't take all this junk!" As he crams our stuff into the trunk. And then we drive for miles and miles, With silly songs and happy smiles. The motel room is really neat With a Pizza Hut across the street. It happens on the second day, Dad manages to lose the way. We first go North and then go South. Experience has shut Mom's mouth. We talk, but know at any cost, We must not say that one word, "LOST." And then before the sun goes down We pass the third time through a town. He finally says, "Enough today." And finds a junky place to stay. Then Mom is quiet-she usually is As she covers crackers with Cheez Whiz. The third day brings the very same As Dad drives in his losing game. At noon IT happens, Mom says, "Matt, Stop at that station, ask where we're at!" "We're not lost!" "Oh, yes we are. Our kids can't grow up in this car. We've got a cottage , for goodness sake, Just get some help to find the lake." So after two more intersections Poor dad pulls in to ask directions. He soon returns without a care, "I knew it, gang, we're almost there." And he was right, the lake was great, And we were only one day late. "Why does he do that, Mom?" we said. She hugged us as she shook her head. "Somehow all men feel imperfection When they must ask for a direction. So going home we'll add a day, Cause he'll get lost along the way." —Grandpa Tucker |
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