And so, after loading the car and the amorphous $50 Sampsonite black roof blob (suggested by Walter) with bags, toys, dairy-free food products, one night’s worth of seltzer, one large box fan and stuffed animals, with bikes what’s more on the back and the whole family with granny in the middle, we set off for Canandaigua (US 31 to US 206 to PA 33 to I 80 to I 580 to I 81 to US 17 to NY 371 to NY21 to Wells Curtice to West Lake RD).
However, at the intersection of 80 and 580 (“Gateway to the Poconos”), there was traffic. As there often is. And bladder pressure, as there often is. So we stopped and relieved.
And, backing out of the parking lot of our relief spot – what with all of the chattering in the back seat and the poor visibility due to bags and bikes and guiding our path solely by the side mirror – of a sudden our backwards progress was arrested by a loud “BAMM!!” Shock set in. Had I backed into another car? Everyone seemed fine. The car was at rest.
Stealthily, I stepped out of the car to see what had happened. I walked to the rear of the car and found the malefactor to be an otherwise innocent-looking telephone pole. The car was mostly fine enough, given how old it is. But my bicycle, my expensive, my sleek, my shiny bicycle was a little mangled. Front wheel mashed.
Undeterred, we recited the Griswold motto in song and headed on.
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