Map Queen

My son and his family are leaving in the morning for a trip to Wyoming to visit with my daughter-in-law's parents.  The idea of driving 30 hours with a 1, 4, 6, and 14 year old leaves me shaking in my boots.  They, however, have it all planned out with stops to visit our daughter in Iowa and friends in Kansas and Colorado.  The car is loaded like a freight train with all the gear required for kids, including movies and games to keep them entertained.  It's not like it was when we traveled and I refused to go further than 2 hours from home with two kids in the car.

In an effort to interest my oldest grandson in the joys of reading a map, I hunted up the road atlas and started showing him some of the things they would be passing.  I pointed out the continental divide, the various time zones, the national parks and mountain ranges.  While intrigued by the zig and zagging of the time zones he remained unenthusiased with reading a map.  "But a map shows you all the things you are passing.  The rivers, towns, roads, parks, and historic sites."  "So do the little green and brown signs", he retorted.  "But a map tells you where you are and lets you know when to turn",  I pointed out.  "That's what a GPS is for," he replied.  I sighed in frustration and he laughed.  "We'll get there. Don't worry!"

I waved good-by as they went home to finish loading the car, but my thoughts were on the countless miles of cattle trips that we navigated using a road atlas.  I rode shotgun with the map spread out in my lap.  Days before we left, I had plotted out our route and figured the time it would take.  Once we were on the road I studied the map as though we were traveling across unknown continents.  I would entertain myself on long stretches by seeing what towns were near, seeking out points of interest to tell the kids about, following the path of the rivers we crossed, comparing populations and areas, and dreaming of the exotic and familiar cities.

When we approached intersections or crowded city exchanges I would get serious.  I would search for the best route and call out turn by turn directions to hubby.  "We're going to take I-70 just after we cross the bridge over the Mississippi, so stay close to the right lane." I would direct.  "Get over now and prepare to exit right".  "NO! Don't pass that truck you need to turn RIGHT!"  "Whew!  Made it.  Now we continue for six exits then we will take exit 37." 

Thanks to my trusty atlas we found cities, fairgrounds, motels and restaurants.  We also found shopping centers, museums, parks, golf courses, colleges, and hospitals.  All of these points are labeled on the maps.  Over time my atlas became a diary of notes written in the margin.  Exit 216 - great ice cream shop.  Exit 74 - rest area with walking trails and playground. Exit 4 - Beef House Restaurant. Exit 312 - park with playground.   Each state page had it's own litany of found delights. 

Over time I have found myself replaced to a large degree by the soothing voice of the GPS lady, although I still check every step with my maps.  I overheard hubby telling someone about his new GPS and how much he liked it.  "The best part", he enthused, "is that she doesn't get excited and yell and she never nags when I miss a turn!" 

Yeah, but she can't give him a high five when he's successfully navigated a tricky location, either!