Los Angeles is a car city. Public transportation is getting better, and there is always buzz about expansion, but it’s impossible to traverse the city easily without a car. I’ve ridden the train for nearly two-and-a-half years to work, and Isa has ridden the train once, but most Angelenos consistently brave the concrete web of freeways.
I am a big fan of the freeway, mainly because I drive faster than I should, and it’s almost always quicker than the streets (even if some trips are a few miles longer). I also don’t have patience for slow drivers. Or bad drivers. And yes, “bad” is subjectively defined as anyone that annoys me on the road (unless Mrs. FWL is with me, in which case I am sometimes the bad driver). But having kids changes things.
Before Kids:
Aside from the other idiots on the road, getting from A to B was uneventful. It was usually a calm experience, sometimes quiet, but always fairly predictable. The variables were few – maybe stop and get gas, maybe take a wrong turn, pull over for the occasional emergency vehicle, you know, the typical stuff.
Road trips were also pretty easy. Pack the car and go! Regardless of how long it was going to take, there were the requisite bathroom breaks, coffee stops, and meals. Naps could be taken, books read, grading done, whatever. We could get up early and leave at 6am, or take our time and leave at 10am – it didn’t matter.
The car itself was also less “important.” A sedan was all that was needed. Who needs 7-seats? All that gas? No way! A big trip to Costco wasn’t a problem as the trunk was empty and the entire back seat was free to put the Kleenex, toilet paper, and paper towels. Oh, you bought a printer too? No problem!
After Kids:
If the freeway is an option, I always take it. Except if Isabel is sleeping. Then my typical hare mentality morphs into tortoise mode (and I probably become a safer driver). Yellow lights are no longer extended green lights, 35 doesn’t mean 55, and bad drivers don’t hear my verbal wrath (as if they could ever hear it). All conversation stops, the radio goes silent, and emergency vehicles become our potential worst enemy. You see, Isabel doesn’t nap very long in her crib, so if we can get her to sleep in the car, we milk it for all its worth.
On the flip side, if she isn’t sleeping, car trips can go one of two ways – peaceful, kind of fun, and easy…or an absolute nightmare. I am always hopeful for the former and deathly afraid of the latter.
Ensuring an easy trip is…who am I kidding, there is no way to ensure an easy trip. If a car ride goes smoothly then all the stars aligned and you were fortunate. You brought the correct proportion of Pirate’s Booty to goldfish, sang Old McDonald correctly, and provided engaging banter. You probably also timed your trip with the angle of the sun, so that the rear-facing child wasn’t blinded by the light, which easily takes a trip from calm to insane. For example, how many times has the trip to Trade Joe’s been fine, but the trip back home a disaster? Yea, different direction of travel, plus sun movement, equals hell.
And sitting with your child doesn’t always help. You don’t sit with them in the backseat because you necessarily want to. You sit with them to mitigate the possibility of a meltdown. You think that by entertaining them, you can prevent boredom and the screaming that comes with it. But who are we kidding, we aren’t in control anymore. So instead of preventing a nightmare, you’re sometimes even closer to it, and there isn’t any amount of distraction, singing, or consoling that can bring your little angel back to reality.
And forget about space in the car. With a car seat and a stroller as permanent fixtures, the available cargo space drastically shrinks. That is in addition to the perma-library and toy store strewn across the backseat and floor. Large shopping trips become a game of Tetris, and before you even wanted to think about a new car and the monthly payment associated with it, you have a shiny new 7-seat SUV sitting in your driveway.
Kids are wonderful, but yet again, they prove that after having them, everything changes – even a trip to get milk.
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