Summer Vacation Redux

Great successes and spectacular failures from a Dad who loves packing the trunk and loading the car ahead of a summer roadtrip

I remember my Dad packing the trunk.  He was a master. Five of us on a ski trip to some place you have to drive through the night to get to and there he was, placing individual ski boots up, inside and at the back of the trunk of his silver 1983 Oldsmobile Dadcar.  It is generally considered a male trait, and definitely a Dad skill, packing a trunk; but my wife has excellent spatial capacity and could compete at the Olympic level if we ever get this sport qualified.  I consider myself pretty good and I take it as a challenge, or more often it is presented that way when my wife and three kids pile an unfathomable amount of luggage beside the car for me to pack ahead of a roadtrip.

With COVID interrupting our summer plans, I found myself missing the roadtrip ritual of packing the car with everything we could possibly need, as well as a few items we clearly wouldn’t need but someone decided we had to include anyway.  Bikes are particularly bulky.  And fragile.  Just the other day I saw a monster fifth-wheel pulled over on the other side of the highway and as I drove by going the other way I could see the Dad slowly trudging back to the rear where three mountain bikes were expertly hung, vertically across the back of the trailer.  The fourth bike was still attached but hanging from the rear bumper in a sad, unnatural position.  They must have gone over a bump in the road that dislodged it and threatened to ruin their weekend.  I’ve been there.  

My own bike trama beset me one sunny Friday afternoon ahead of a roadtrip to Whistler.  The three kids were still pretty young so we only had four bikes but that meant the fifth person was incorporated in the bike trip with a trail-behind carrier I hooked to my bike.  In our case it was big enough to handle two kids with a small bike strapped to the back of it if necessary.  But this thing took up a fair bit of space and completely threw off my trunk packing vibe.  That is my excuse anyway, while I struggled to fit these bikes onto a rear-mounted bike rack.  Like a failed Ikea assembly, I discovered I had to remove the first three bikes already mounted in order to line them up in a different sequence. The other four members of my family sat waiting patiently on the stoop watching quietly as their Dad sweated the bikes onto the back of the minivan 45 minutes after our planned departure time. 

While it does not involve a trunk, my family will fall over themselves with their own recollection of incidents involving items strapped to the roof of our car that became unstrapped.  A Standup Paddleboard and two small kayaks usually tops the list.  They somehow freed themselves and tried to escape one afternoon as we drove down a steep logging road after a hike in the mountains.  It was an ugly feeling watching them slide forward off the roof and ding the hood of my wife’s truck knowing I could do nothing to stop it, and paralyzed while everyone watched. I cannot capture them all, nor would I want to, but a spare wheel and tire that launched itself off our roof rack at 110 kph and a Thule box split down its side like a can opener when it lost a battle with a low ceiling in a parking garage, all come to mind.  

Beyond my trunk-packing lowlights, I have a few highlights.  Like that time in Toronto we escaped to Muskoka for two weeks of summer vacation in a fairly new BMW X5 so beautifully packed one of the neighbourhood Dads strode down the block just to congratulate me.  With two kids in the rear car seats and the exersaucer consuming most of the interior trunk space, we had to take things to another level.  Every inch of our roof-rack was used, from the Thule box on one side (the same one that later tangled with the cement roof of a parking garage in Whistler) and two adult bikes on the other, I actually had to buy separate front wheel holders I fitted to the outside edge of the roof rack to fit it all up there.  I still wish I had a photo, but happily my memory is unrestrained by the reality of the event.  To this day I recall noticing the surprisingly small bag of clothes and personal items my wife and I each packed for this trip which paled in comparison to the steamer trunks of baby toys, colouring books and diapers that consumed the remaining area in that spacious SUV.  

Again, it may not be a trunk, but I could not complete this account of our exploits without mentioning one of the greatest travel-packing achievements my family has ever accomplished.  With two women and three teenagers amongst the five of us, we somehow managed to complete a 3 ½  week tour of Europe with nothing more than a small, wheeled carry-on and a backpack each.  No mean feat, every one of us could do it again without hesitation.  That trip did in fact include a roadtrip element too as we rented a car in Rome and drove it, ultimately, to Venice before ditching it to ride the canals on the Vaporetto.  The Italians are wonderful.  Second only to the people of Thailand for smiling and waving aside otherwise unsurmountable obstacles to declare confidently that everything will work itself out.  And it usually did.  In our case it was a mixed-up rental car that left us scrambling for a replacement.  Our bright-eyed saviour declared, after two hours of stress and haggling, that we now had a vehicle to rent.  “What sort of car is it?” I asked, trying to quell my anxiety.  

“Ah, it’s a Fiat Cinquecento” she said with the confidence of a Trump tweet.  That stood for 500.  A big number but a famously tiny car.  Very much the same size as a Mini from the UK.  In fact, I think a Cinquecento is actually smaller than a Mini…

“Uhm, that’s not gonna work” I responded, calling over my 6’2’’ middle child as exhibit A.  

“Oh, no no no, don’t worry sir.  It’s the L” she said with the brightest, most undeserving smile I had ever seen.  “It’s an SUV” she pressed on, using an American term she hoped would calm my nerves.  It did not.  There is no way 5 adults plus luggage (very compact luggage, mind you) could fit into a sub-compact.  Even if it was the “L”.  But it was all we had.  With no alternative we accepted the car, paid the extortionate rental rate and I went looking for the parking garage.  

To my complete surprise, the L did in fact fit us.  Two in the front, three in the back and with an elite-class trunk packing job that saw our carry-on bags fitted into the rear area like bricks in a Tetris game, we fit.  I honestly could not believe it.  I kept checking around beside me and counting bags to ensure we had not forgotten one.  Worried it would burst open any second I called for everyone to climb inside and before I knew it I was listening to Google tell me what lane to be in as I double-clutched my way around a massive traffic circle that spat us out on the road to Orvieto. 

Is that where our youngest child got a selfie with Usher?  Now that was a memorable vacation…