My car, my rules: How to enjoy a road trip with the family

To the Occupants of My Vehicle (summer months)

Hello and thank you for choosing to be an occupant in my car. I want to give a special acknowledgment to those who filled out the survey and sent in their queries. I will try to get to your questions later.

As you know, while winter driving is obviously perilous (snow, sleet, Christmas parking lots) the period between June and September brings its own set of challenges, among them long drives that end with swimming.

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Please consider this introduction to being in my vehicle as the establishment a code of conduct that will help make these months more what we call "drive-friendly."

Let's talk about air conditioning. Yes, my vehicle has air conditioning. Think of my car's AC as you would nuclear arms. The United States has nuclear weapons but it doesn't use them all the time. It uses them when needed.

Okay, this may not be the best analogy since America only officially used nuclear weapons a couple of times, and air conditioning is required more often, but I'm trying to make a point. My vehicle's air conditioning is used on an "as-needed" basis like scotch at 10 a.m. or an extra hash brown with your drive-thru breakfast.

What's that you say? It's too hot. It's too cold. I didn't know I was driving around Goldilocks and the three bears!

Look, some people always feel the cold and others don't and it always ends up with the person who feels the cold happily ensconced under their goose down-filled comforter while the other person has to lie naked with the sheets thrown off even though it's February.

But they don't win in my vehicle!

No sir. In my ride, if we're driving below 50 km/h the windows are down and the AC is off. Enjoy the warm breeze. If we're going above 50 km/h the windows are up and it's time for the cool. This saves money (driving with windows down on the highway saves air conditioning costs but makes it less aerodynamic and costs more in gas) and keeps things even.

At least you have air conditioning as an option. Try driving through Virginia in July, 1976, in a Volvo without air conditioning or a radio. That's what my family did. The Yanks were armed with vintage muskets, celebrating the Bicentennial and we're driving a sweat lodge through Dixie. But guess what? Now I have an imagination. And I owe it all to heat-induced hallucinations of the Battle of Fredericksburg.

I've noticed that some of the occupants of my vehicle have said that my car smells "funny."

That's odd, because it doesn't smell "funny" to me at all. It smells awful. It smells like people have been dumping rubbish and fluids (milk, coffee, ice cream) into my vehicle and now that the heat and humidity are here the foul concoction is being cooked like Alec Guinness in The Bridge on the River Kwai.

That movie did not have a "funny" ending and neither will your experience in my vehicle if you insist on using it like a garbage can. Think of my vehicle as a "garbage can't."

"Are we there yet?"

Sound familiar? It's a staple of Family Circus comic strip but it is not appropriate for my vehicle.

Here is how you can tell "if we are there yet:" if my vehicle is moving, we aren't there yet. If I bring my vehicle to a stop, remove the key from the ignition and cease swearing, then we are there yet.

I gather from all the passive aggressive sighs and the not so subtle covering of the ears that not everyone who rides in my vehicle is a fan of Steely Dan. (Note: to the individual who said "No! I hate Steely Dan!" after I put on Ricky Don't Lose That Number: I heard you.)

Donald Fagan and Walter Becker's artistry may be lost on some people who would rather listen to songs about counting and the alphabet. I repeat. Not in my vehicle. I already know how to count and read and I am not going through that hell again. My taste in music may indeed, as one critic put it, "suck in 3D," but as long as we're all in my vehicle we'll listen to Babylon Sister as many times as I want.

Now, I enjoy waiting in line to use filthy roadside public washrooms that smell as if they are cleaned with a combination of urine, vomit and baking soda, but one stop per bladder is a bit much. That's why, when I ask everyone if they've gone to the bathroom, what I'm really saying is, "Pee now." Having trouble getting the water going? Turn on a tap - works every time.

Some of you may be wondering: Is every other driver on the road incompetent and am I the only sane driver? In my vehicle, the answer is yes.

I think if we all abide by these guidelines, avoid eye contact and remain completely silent, we should enjoy hours of pleasant summer motoring. Or we can just scream, laugh, spew and argue like we did last year.

Just let me know.

Follow Andrew Clark on Twitter: @aclarkcomedy

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