Eileen Cichello

We've had many adventures in our cars over the years. The kids still reminisce about a four day trip we took to Washington, D.C. back in 1972. My husband Sam didn't believe in vacations, per se, and four day trips were the best we could do.

We loaded up the wagon, rented carrier on top, nine kids inside, ranging in age from one year to eleven years. (We had two nephews with us.) The trip was relatively uneventful until somewhere in Pennsylvania, when we had to stop and change Paul's diaper. No problem. Off we went again. Then the kids are yelling to Sam to stop. We'd left the carrier open and Pampers strewed the highway behind us. We stopped, picked up what we could and proceeded on. Until the wagon broke down. We have, on 8mm film, scenes of all of us sweltering beneath a tree while Sam and a mechanic worked on the car. It was only 99 degrees at the time.

Eventually, we reached our motel and all was well. We "did" D.C. My way of coping was to insist the kids partner up and everywhere we went, I'd be counting "one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...one, two, three, four..." as we entered and exited buildings, to make sure we hadn't lost anyone. (Sam would be carrying Paul.)

How did we fit eleven people in the car? Well, this was before mandatory car seats and seat belts. In front, there'd be Paul in a small car seat between Sam and me. Then the three girls in the second seat. John and Michael, the smallest after Paul, in the space between the second and the back seat, and Anthony and our two nephews in the back. Or we'd leave all the seats down and everyone would sit on blankets.

On those few long trips we took when the kids were young, they were wonderfully well behaved. Staying at a motel was such a marvel to them that they were on their best behavior. All you had to say was, "Do you want us to turn around and go back home?" and peace would reign. Less effective on the way home but you could make a variation, like "Do you want to do this again? " We also sang "Old McDonald had a farm" more times than I care to remember.

These trips were unlike the trips to Syracuse, when I would be taking the kids by myself to doctor or dentist or to visit their grandparents. Mayhem would break out in the back. I would threaten, "If you guys don't stop that RIGHT NOW, I'm going to pull over. If I have to pull over, YOU'RE GOING TO BE SORRY!"

The kids got to know by instinct when I had reached the breaking point. This would happen when, after repeated warnings, my left hand would clutch the steering wheel, my eyes would fixate on the road ahead and my right arm would make a swing, trying to connect with one of the miscreants in the seat behind. No mean feat, let me tell you, but motherhood is not for sissies.

Paul says, (he was older by then and riding in the second seat), that as I wound up to take my swing, his older brothers, anticipating my move, would hold him out to absorb the blow. I maintain that this is not true. Paul insists that it is.

To be continued...

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