The open road…?

When I was a kid, I loved summer road trips. Those days when we piled into my dad’s car and rode into the unknown, feasting on hotdogs and ice cream and listening to old music—it all blurs together now, a kaleidoscope of junk food, roadside sights, and back roads and sunlight though car windows. I can’t tell you where we went—I think most of them ended with us landing at a relative’s house, and one or another ended at rented cabins on beaches. There is even of me dressed to hike and wearing the most serious expression I could muster at age five, framed by a sign for Acadia National Park. That’s a vacation I remember fondly, but the trip there? I’m sure I’d mix it up with any of a dozen other if I tried to retell it.

Still, the getting there was an adventure of its own. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Nowadays, I’m behind the wheel on our family road trips. I admit, they seem to be made up less of dreams and bottomless ice cream and more of nigh-endless traffic jams and rising gas prices, but that’s the price one pays for adulthood, isn’t it?

For those of us who want to relive those glorious and innocent days, the New Haven Museum is showcasing a trove of road trip photos and bric-a-brac that span a full century. Many of the items on exhibit have been “crowdsourced” from the local community, keep your eyes peeled for familiar stories.

So take a road trip to see “Road Trip!”—or call a Metro Taxi and enjoy the ride.

Until next time,

P