A Griswold Vacation

2012...the year of the Griswold.
Just recently I had addressed a local vacation effort with possible Griswold potential, but eventually it worked itself out.
Then, on our recent trip to the sunbelt, we had a few Griswold-like episodes.
I'll at this point preface by saying no one died, lost their job, got robbed, wrecked their car, took someone hostage, blew $22,000 and some change at the casino, or got into some kind of misadventure with a black sheep member of the family.
Nonetheless, I did wonder at one point if I was setting myself up for a fall.
Like Chevy Chase's signature movie role, I want my family to have a fun, old-fashioned family vacation, but I'm not overzealous about it.  That trait alone, as I've come to learn, is the key ingredient in a recipe for disaster.
We planned to leave a little earlier than our usual this year.  We decided to leave the afternoon of Thursday, September 20th, after we both left work early, so we could make a couple stops along the way and see some sights before reaching our zenith...Hilton Head Island, South Carolina.
My wife's parents own a condo there, and rent it out to tourists.  And they're kind enough to give us free use of it one week out of the year.
We decided to leave in the late afternoon and stay in southern West Virginia that first night.
Our departure turned out to be a little later than anticipated, but we got on the road a little after 6pm.
No sooner did we pull out of the driveway than the front end of the Jeep began to shimmy and a dragging sound was heard.
The shimmy was nothing new.  I had discovered a broken belt in one of the tires a month ago and after a quick tire rotation, the problem was solved.
But what now?
We pulled the Jeep over to a safe area.  I saw one end of the steering stabilizer on the ground.
For those of you who don't speak motorhead, that's the shock-absorber thingy that stretches from one wheel to another along the front axle that you find on most light-duty trucks and SUV's.
I noticed that the bolt supporting the stabilizer in its proper place was missing the nut.
Get it back home, I told my wife.  I can fix it quickly.
She was ready to pack it in and wait until the morning.
But I'm a little more stubborn than that.
We limped the Jeep back home a mile away.  I jumped in my truck and headed to our local hardware store about five miles down the road.  The clock was ticking, as it was approaching closing time.
There was a reason I had done business there for years.  They immediately helped me.
Eighty-five cents and less than five minutes later, I was on my way home.
Strange how such a small part can wreak so much havoc.
Margie kept our daughter busy with a movie in her portable DVD player we set up for her in the back seat.
Ten minutes later, I had the stabilizer repaired and we were back on the road.
No more debacles until we reached Hilton Head.
The first came when I took my family to the Wild Wing Cafe for dinner Sunday night.
Amid some confusion with a drippy A/C unit above our table, my debit card somehow got left behind.  I did not discover it until the following morning, when we got ready to take our bike ride to breakfast.
Fortunately, I did have some cash, which saved us from having to wash dishes.
After a fruitless search, I called the restaurant to see if anyone had turned it in.  It had.  They still had it.  No problem.
Then on Thursday, the keys to the bicycle cable lock somehow got lost.
Calls to Bell and a trip to Wal-Mart and a bike dealer proved fruitless after a frantic search turned up nothing.
There was only one other option.  A trip to Lowe's...about 20 minutes away.
I held my breath as I took the pair of Kobalt bolt-cutters I had bought and cut through the lock's cable, as much as I hated to have to do it.
No more debacles for the rest of the trip, which officially ended Saturday, September 29th, when we pulled into the driveway.
If this is the closest I ever came to having a Griswold experience, I will die a happy man.


NEXT WEEK:   Potty Party