Riding in cars with boys

by Katie on August 11, 2009

So. It was an eventful, whirlwind weekend.

We left last Thursday afternoon for Wyoming, drove through the night to participate in pre-wedding festivities, and returned late Sunday night. And the drive was interesting, to say the least.

I accompanied a car full of boys (Really, just four of them, in a Yukon XL. But still. I was definitely outnumbered.) for the 16 hour drive from Buckeye to Laramie.

Now, why in the world would I volunteer for such a trip? This is a question many have asked. The thing is, I didn’t volunteer.

Several months ago, Brandon presented the idea of driving to me. Just me. He liked this idea because he wouldn’t be tied down to leaving or returning at a certain time. On the farm, a little flexibility is always nice. Scratch that. It’s required.

He also thought we (as in, the two of us) might be able to make a mini vacation out of the trip, since we haven’t been on one of those together since, well, our honeymoon. So we tentatively planned to spend a night or two at the cabin in Durango on the way there or back.

Shortly after, we tried inviting two different couples to come along on this vacation with us. The problem? Boys, all for it. Wives, couldn’t go. I never heard more of it.

Closer to the wedding, we realized we would not both be taking vacation at the same time for several more years with all the work we have going on right now, but Brandon still wanted the flexibility to leave when he wanted, so we still planned on driving.

At some point after this, there was a little discussion of me flying from Texas to Denver and getting picked up there, since I would be in Texas shortly before the wedding. But, Brandon said he needed me to return from Texas as soon as I could to help on the farm, so that idea was nixed fairly quickly.

Next thing I know, it’s a couple weeks prior to the wedding, and I find out (not from my husband, mind you) that both of the boys from the previously mentioned couples are riding with us. Too late to buy a relatively inexpensive plane ticket.

Fine. I’m a tough girl. No worries. Then, just one week before we depart, Brandon invites his friend Jake to tag along. Now, any of you who know Jake will understand why this was the deal breaker.

But I survived. And the ride home was actually about 15 times better.

On the way there, Jake made a comment to me like, “You, mean? I can’t imagine you being mean.”

At some point that weekend, he looked at me squarely and said, “You’re mean.”

But, before the trip ended, we kissed (literally, the boy kissed me on the cheek twice while we were there) and made up.

While eating dinner at the reception, we were relaying tales of our trip to some other friends. I was mentioning the crazy number of times we had to stop…for boys. I was pointing out we only made one stop for me — the only girl in the car — the gender with a reputation for causing rest stops on road trips.

I was saying, “Yeah, it took me forever to ask them to stop. If I would have known we would be stopping another 700 times for them, I wouldn’t have been worried about it. But this was the very first stop, and I didn’t want to be ‘THAT GIRL’ who made the boys stop.”

A friend of ours, who was in the car, said, “But you were already ‘that girl’ who rode with the boys.”

I quickly retaliated with, “Oh yeah? Well, then my husband is ‘THAT BOY’ who invited all the boys to ride with him AFTER he invited his wife.”

Another female at the table: “Yep, he is ‘that boy’.”

I guess it’s one of those gender perspective issues.


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