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The Road Trip. An event of such magnitude it deserves capitalization.

This March we hopped in our van and headed out for our first family vacation in Florida.

The parents occupied the front seats and the back was filled with our four children all falling under one of the dreaded T-word categories — teens, toddler and third grader. And we couldn't leave the empty seat empty; that would be too sensible. So we threw in a boyfriend, too.

I consider myself a pro road tripper. My family lives a few hours away, and each visit is a perfectly co-ordinated adventure.

I have mastered the art of Tetris packing, making sure I fill each nook and cranny with necessities, and know exactly what makes a good road trip — snacks, books, games and distractions. And also an invisible line clearly defining which side of the seat belongs to whom, and laying down the law about what will happen if someone crosses that sacred boundary.

I never succumb to the use of technology on road trips. Portable DVD players and video games are for wimps, not an expert such as myself. Road trips are about fun, conversation and discovery, not using mind-numbing movies to pass the time peacefully.

So, with passports ready, we left for the Sunshine State at about 11 p.m. on a Friday.

We had a peaceful, pleasant night of driving, pulling over in Pennsylvania for a few hours sleep in the middle of the night before hitting the road again the next morning.

With a stretch and a yawn we continued the journey, and this is when the Plan of Distraction started to fall apart.

At first there were a few "I'm bored" complaints followed by a bunch of "How much longer" refrains. But then, within a few hours of sunrise, the peace in the van was under full attack with annoyed cries of "Leave me alone!" and violent ones of "Get away from me!"

I tried to defuse the war zone with colouring activities, but the resistance was strong. Finally, out of desperation, I pulled out the contraband I had hidden. I handed over the Game Boy and plugged in the DVD player. The Pokémon theme song became an anthem for peace.

The guilt I felt when I brought out these formerly banned gadgets faded with each disaster-free moment and our injury-free arrival in Florida.

It should be noted that a Road Trip can vary dramatically depending on whether you are on the way there or on the way home. The scenery doesn't change, except for the window perspective from the other side of the road, but there is one big difference: the atmosphere.

On the voyage to Florida, the van was filled with excitement and anticipation. We were refreshed, eager and getting ready for adventure and sunshine.

On the trek from Florida, the van was filled with a bunch of cranky, sunburned tourists counting down a 22-hour trip. We were irritable, tired and leaving the sunshine far behind.

Simple issues such as picking the next movie needed extensive mediation. Window wars developed, and bargaining was needed to resolve how long a window could stay open, how much it could be open, and who was allowed to look out of it. Personal space was a commodity, and territorial battles made even world-domination plans seem petty. All rules of civilization were ignored.

A toddler who has just mastered control of her bladder also discovered the extent of that control. As in notifying us with urgent screams of "I have to go pee!" Then, after a quick exit from the highway that could probably get my husband a job as an FBI agent, she refused to use the toilet because it was too big.

During a family restroom and stretch break, when we sat her on the toilet she produced a complete rendition of the alphabet song three times, but nothing else. Yet 15 minutes after we merged onto the highway, we heard the frantic shriek that let us know we'd better find a bathroom or we'd have an emergency situation on our hands.

Road Trips. Capital R and capital T.

Even a perfectly choreographed trip can hit a few speed bumps along the way. But speed bumps aren't meant to stop a journey. They are only meant to slow it down.

This allows you to notice those wonderful moments hidden among the battles that come with a Road Trip. Such as my three-year-old professing her love for her big sister's boyfriend, or watching everyone become engrossed in a game of hangman. Or looking out the window to take in new sights and being awed by mountains, rapids, palm trees or the much-awaited sign saying Welcome to Florida.

In those moments we weren't divided by the labels of parent, teenager, third grader and toddler. We were all under the same label: a family.

Road Trip anyone?

Brandy Ford lives in Welland, Ont.