Counterpoise

By: Jimmy Hackett 

It was a cool and crisp night. My wife falling asleep in my arms, whispering sweet nothings. Every conversation is the universe talking to itself.

The road trip is the purest manifestation of contemporary masculinity. When the family sleeps, with the assurance that dad will get everyone home. These little dramas live all around us. These perfect little moments, continuously etching into the cosmos. In every moment, a hero waits to be born. Bury the dead. Pray for the living.

When it comes to road trips, I have big shoes to fill. My dad possesses the iron bladder of fatherhood lore. Bathroom breaks were purely for the benefit of the family. Sure, he might have gone to the bathroom himself, but this was mostly to prevent the rest of us from feeling inferior. As my wife and I continued sailing down the roadway, I let my mind wander to yesteryears.

I was 13. A last-minute storm track showed a hurricane barreling straight for our town. A mandatory evacuation was issued and our family loaded into the car. Approximately 4 hours later, and I had a bit of a problem.

Between my clinched thighs and pressing hands, 100% humidity and 98.6 degrees F turned my jeans into a hot towel from the barber. My legs began bouncing and my blood pressure sky rocketed. Could I just let out a little peep? Just a drop? It was a risky move. One muscle fiber out of sync and that’s the game folks. But I had to try. Just a little burst of the relief valve. Muscles began relaxing, my grip waned. But then, from the heaves, a gentle voice of a guardian angel. “Honey, I need to stop.” “Ok, we’ll get off at the next exit.”

Could I make it? Are we to sacrifice our future, to remain stagnant in the shadows of the past? Or will we venture to greater heights. To slay giants so we may stand on their shoulders. I wished to fight. I wished to live. I chose to make it to the next exit.

A few moments later, and we had arrived. A sigh of relief. The car pooled over. I ran inside. The air feeling extra cool against the sweat of my brow and palms.

After the bathroom break, I felt like a million bucks. The perfect mood for picking out snacks. As I have gotten older, I belief more and more in purchasing snacks based solely on their generation of finger-residue. But this was before I was older. So, I went for Flaming Hot Cheetos, a nemesis mentioned on this program more than once. And the drink. There was and always will be one best road trip combination. First off, get a bottle of water. Sustenance. Nobody wants to be that chump stealing sips from the more prepared fellow travelers. But the real treat of the road trip, the slushy. Note, ICEE is a brand name, and since they aren’t a sponsor of the program, we won’t be saying ICEE (a delicious frozen and carbonated concoction) anymore. Now, I’ll let some of the humble readers in on a little secret I learned recently. You can purchase a slushy any time you want. In fact, similar to sparkling cider (which typically only makes appearances during special events), you can purchase a slushy for any reason at all. Now don’t go ape-shit and start getting a slushy every time you stop at a gas station. I’d recommend no more than two slushies a week.

I don’t remember how that particular night ended. Only that it ended the same way countless other road trips did, arriving safely at our location. Never having to worry. The most wonderful gift I received from my parents was childhood.

I returned my focus to the road. My wife now asleep. Our dog, the same. Resting soundly on the notion that their journey was taken care of. Older, wiser, more confident, and with a larger bladder, the rest of the trip was in good hands.

How many moments are occurring in this world? How many in the universe? How many people on strange planets are falling in love? How many people on strange worlds wonder what it all means? I am proud to be among their numbers. Save this world, for the living. Save this living world.

This living world, it’s a beautiful idea.