Category: Childhood

Running on empty

While I have not been in college for decades, I remember vividly the college days, in particular that my gas tank and refrigerator were usually very close to empty.

And I remember when my folks would visit, and those problems would go away, as parents visiting you at college are oftentimes emergency relief funds.

Such is the case with our daughter. When we come visit, we do as our parents did for us – a run to the grocery store and the gas station.

Sometimes, however, the gas station run takes on a few extra steps. In particular when the car is stranded a few miles from your child’s home, as she ran out of gas.

We were about 45 minutes away from her when she called in a bit of a panic. My wife took the call, and went into usual mom mode, which was calming the situation down.

Oh, did I mention this was on a football gameday just a few hours before a big game?

My brother-in-law was already in town, so he went ahead of us and got the car secured and brought Allie back to her apartment. When we arrived, I told her to hop in the car with me, and we set off to solve the problem.

My wife and I had agreed prior to getting there that there was really not going to be any purpose in harping on the issue. As my daughter and I headed out, I told her as such.

“That said…” I said, causing her to sigh and slump, as she knew a parting mini-lecture was on its way. “Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling you that Starbucks can sometimes wait.”

“Fine,” she said. (I don’t think she was fine.)

We headed off to the nearest gas station. I went in and asked where the gas cans were. The clerk said, “Gas cans?” which to me seems like a really odd question at an actual gas station. It’s not like I came inside and said, “Yes, where do you keep your iguana food?” I was asking for a gas can, which is no doubt no. 2 on the list of containers people use to take away gas, right after actual vehicles.

I was told they did not carry those (or iguana food, I assume). So off to a nearby hardware store. Tick tock. Tick tock.

Then back to the gas station. Then to my daughter’s stranded car, which was parked in a game-day lot, so it was fortunately still there. I put a gallon or so in the tank and started the car. Good to go. With room to spare before gametime.

The next day, we took her car up to the gas station and filled it up. And, of course, we took a trip to the store to remedy the refrigerator situation. Our cart was the most “My Parents Are Visiting” cart you could imagine: Food, a printer, a deck of Uno cards.

I was happy to be able to come in and do the same thing for my daughter that my parents did for me on multiple occasions. I’m glad she has a full fridge and a full tank of gas. And I am hopeful that she will not gamble on an empty tank again for a Starbucks. In the end, it all ended up well. Except for if we need iguana food. I’ve got nothing there.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike or at www.mikeslife.us.

Take me out to the ball game

Post author By Mike Gibbons
Post date September 3, 2019
No Comments on Take me out to the ball game

I just attended my first Major League Baseball game in almost 25 years.

You must be thinking, wow, Mike, you are clearly not a baseball fan.

Au contraire.

I am a huge baseball fan. My first job ever was before I was old enough to work, and the owner of a baseball card store near my house figured out a way to game the system and, rather than pay me to work, let me have store credit if I “volunteered.” At the end of each week, he would tally up my volunteer hours and gift me a store credit. One week, my entire pay … I mean, gift … was a single baseball card, a 1980 Topps Ricky Henderson.

I love baseball. But since 1995, I’ve had a bit of mental roadblock on going to a game. Because that game I went to in 1995? Kinda special.

It was Oct. 28, 1995. The Braves were good. Super good. They had been the team of the 90s. And they finally won the World Series. And there I sat in the stands, with dad. My wife, who was my girlfriend at the time, sat a section away, with her dad.

And to be honest with you, it’s a hard thing to ever top watching your team win the World Series. In person. With your dad. I’m pretty sure if you think about it hard enough, a bald eagle will appear with an apple pie for you.

I have attended games with my kids. But those were minor league games. They have both gone to MLB games, but they did those with their grandparents in Atlanta.

But recently, I ended my streak. We were going to be in Atlanta for the kickoff to the Alabama football season, and my wife caught wind of a Friday night Braves game that was geared for Alabama fans, including a super cool ball cap that had a Bama logo on it.

And the game was everything I could have hoped for. There were Bama fans everywhere, and we all had on our signature caps, and there was no shortage of “Roll Tide” exchanges being passed back and forth through Suntrust Park. I know this sounds like torture to a lot of non-Bama fans, but trust me, it’s a nice evening for us.

The Braves won the game 10-7, and while the game did not have quite the same importance of the game I last saw, it was awesome to be there.

Among the highlights:

We saw Chipper Jones, who was a rookie when I last saw the Braves play in person. And he is a large individual.

We got to enjoy Suntrust Park, which is an amazing stadium.

We ate ballpark hot dogs, which simply makes life better.

We watched The Freeze race – and lose! If you are not familiar with The Freeze, Google it. He rarely loses.

Prior to entering the stadium, there were clowns outside who were juggling and unicycling. They were slightly amazed when my son asked if he could join them and juggle and unicycle. And then proceeded to juggle and unicycle. I do not think they were expecting a fellow clown in the crowd.

We found out that you can rent ball gloves for free. Yes, for free. You give your credit card, and they give you a couple of gloves. Both of my kids are lefties, so they were excited about having mitts in case a home run ball made it our way (it didn’t). I asked the guy at the stand how exactly you could “rent for free”? He told me that if we did not return the gloves, they charged me $750 per glove. I laughed. He did not. He said, “No, seriously.” Rest assured, we returned those gloves.

So we had a great time. And while the time my wife and I went to the World Series win with our dads will always be special, this day was special, too. Because we will always remember the time we saw The Freeze lose.

Animals Childhood Family

Praising Arizona

Thirty years ago, I went with my dad on a week-long trip to Arizona. It was one of the most amazing trips of my childhood. My dad is a biologist, and we focused on seeing all kinds of amazing critters – rattlesnakes, roadrunners and coyotes, oh my. It was a constant adventure and discovery after discovery.

Fast forward to today. My son has a thirst for adventure and discovery just as I did at that age. He loves going out in the woods tromping around with his Grampa, discovering new and exciting things. And, just between you and me, he was probably pretty much tired of hearing just how great that Arizona trip was three decades ago.

So when the chance to go back to Arizona and tromp again – with my dad and my son – presented itself, I immediately said, “Nah, I’ve got some shows I need to watch that week.”

I kid, of course. When I told my son we were going to go out to Arizona, he was just a smidge excited. I believe his exact response was, “WHAT? REALLY? SERIOUSLY?”

Prior to leaving, I told him there were two things we would be amazed at: the terrain and the weather. He had never been out west, so he had never seen what a desert looked like. He had also never felt that kind of heat. And yes, it’s a dry heat. So is your oven.

On our flight out, we had a layover in Dallas. About 20 minutes west of Dallas, my son was staring out the window, as the terrain turned to a barren, Martian-like view. It was awesome watching my son see a part of the earth that he knew existed but he had never seen for himself.

When we touched down in Tucson, my son started seeing Saguaro cactuses from the window of the plane. He was very excited by those. I assured him he would see more. Many more. He also experienced his first Arizona heat shortly after landing. He concurs. It’s a different kind of hot.

After several days in the desert, we had checked off a lot of bucket list boxes:

rattlesnakes, lizards, roadrunners, In-N-Out Burger. After about three days, pretty much the only thing my son hadn’t seen that was on his bucket list was a Gila monster. For those of you not familiar with a Gila monster, they are a venomous lizard and they look cool as all get out. But even if we didn’t find one, the trip had been amazing as we had found so much other stuff.

On our last night, my dad, son and I took a night hike through a canyon near us. There was enough moonlight that we could walk the rocky trail without flashlights. Occasionally during the hike, my dad and I would stop and sit on a rock as my son explored crevices looking for critters. My dad and I looked at the stars and talked about the night sky. We talked about how cowboys must have seen the terrain 200 years ago, and what their horses must have thought. If you have the chance to sit on a rock in the desert and talk about this kinda stuff with your dad, please do. I know how fortunate I am, and I don’t want anyone else to miss that chance.

Eventually, we turned our lights on. And we found a couple of rattlesnakes that were making their way, just doing their thing. At one point, I found one, and said, “I got one!” When my son came back to where I was, he said, “Dad! I thought you’d found a Gila monster!”

As we were finishing up the final 100 yards or so of our multi-mile hike, we

noticed something in the bushes, about a foot to our left. And there it was.

A Gila monster. My son took roughly a bajillon pictures of it. Another hiking group came up the trail and they were excited to get to see one, too. I stood back with my dad, watching my son, his grandson show the hiking group where the big lizard was. It was dark, but I’m pretty sure my dad had as big a smile as I did. I

wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else with my son. Or my dad. But the three of us together? Yeah, I’ll take that.

So, in short – Good trip? Nope. Great trip.

Childhood Family

Tired

I am not sure if there is anything more Father’s Dayish than fixing a kid’s bike tire. Yet that is exactly what I found myself doing on Father’s Day.

I don’t offer this up as some sentimental Hallmark movie moment of father-child bonding. I just thought it was stereotypically comical it was occurring on Father’s Day, I mentioned it to my wife, but also noted that mosquitoes and sweat were also big contributors to the day’s narrative, so let’s not go over the top with sentimentality.

What led me to the moment was my son’s desire to do things that seem like a great idea to teenagers. My son and our neighbor, who is about his age, like to get up at the crack of dawn and ride their bikes to the beach, which is just a few miles away. While I prefer logging what sleep I can and driving to the beach, I am not 16. And I would never throw a wet blanket on the freedom that a couple of teenagers feel when they can pedal down to the beach and waste away a summer day.

Alas, on their last journey to the beach, my son popped his bike tire and needed a new one. We headed over to the store to get a replacement. He drove, as he is getting his hours in with his learner’s permit. Once he gets his license, he may shelve the bike ride to the beach for a car, but for now, the bike’s the way to go.

As we neared the store, he asked me if I knew how to fix a bike tire. I snorted at the absurdity of this question. I am a dad. On Father’s Day. I can fix ANYTHING. And a flat bike tire? Pshaw. Child, please.

And then I started to think back to the last time I fixed a bike tire. When my kids were little, they somehow avoided flat tires to the best of my recollection. Plus, when you first start riding bikes, you are at the age where you are growing like a weed and moving on to a new bike quickly.

So I thought back to when I was a kid. So, yeah, it may have been 30 years since I changed out a bike tire.

But how hard can it be?

Answer: Actually, not that hard, but I hadn’t recalled it requiring a hammer, prybar and tin snips.

Once we got the replacement tube procured, we went to work on the bike. We flipped it upside down and took a wrench to the bolts. Once they were free, I noticed that we could not remove the tire as there was a little metal bracket securing it to the frame. I spent as much time as I could trying to determine the function of said bracket, but could not for the life of me find one.

Commence the prybar assault. After several minutes of pounding away at it, it was not free. But I had lodged it enough open that I could then fix some tin snips in there and clip it free, getting the tire free and, as an added bonus, creating a ridiculously sharp piece of jagged metal that protruded from the side.

In short order, we had the new tire installed and he was on the road taking it for a test drive. I am pleased that, despite my decades-long void of bike repair, I was able to get my son back in the saddle for his early morning beach trip. I guess you could say it was just like riding a bike.

Adventures Animals Childhood Family Food

Gone fishin’ (and eatin’)

Post author By Mike Gibbons
Post date December 9, 2018
No Comments on Gone fishin’ (and eatin’)

My son loves to fish. Loves, loves, loves to fish. If I gave him the option of having a roof over his head or fishing, it’s pretty much time to tell him goodbye.

He fishes in the morning. He fishes in the afternoon. On plenty of occasions I have called him and said, “Dude, it’s dark. How are you still fishing.”

His usual response: “Yeah, I’m packing up and will…WAIT – BITE! GOTTA GO!”

We rarely keep what he catches. Part of that is that a lot of the fishing he does is around the lakes and ponds near our neighborhood, and I prefer my fresh fish not to be marinated in a brine of lawn chemicals and road runoff.

Another reason, however, is that cleaning a fish is a lengthy investment. It’s messy, it takes a good bit of time, and it kinda smells like fish.

But every once in a while, you want to be able to catch your supper. My son had done some research online and found a new pier he wanted to fish. He was positive he was going to catch dinner. I reminded him that, should he catch dinner, he and he alone was in charge of cleaning it. He made it very clear that no one else was invited to take part in cleaning said future catch, as it was his catch, his clean. Fishermen are a prideful lot.

My daughter was home from college and she came with us to the pier. She likes to fish on occasion, but is more of a stand-by-the-rod-and-Snapchat kinda fisherperson. If she catches something, great. If not, at least there was Snapchat.

After an hour he had a few nibbles here and there. I told him we were getting close to needing to pack up, and he offered his usual closing offer, “Five most casts?” Which means 15-20 more casts, because, you know, almost got a bite on that last one…

He cast one here and there and then BOOM! His line dove. He sprung into offense, grabbing his pole and positioning himself in the perfect fishing stance, which I say because I have no idea what the perfect fishing stance is, but good chance you don’t either, so we can just go with whatever stance our mind’s eye finds appropriate.

After fighting for a few minutes, the fish broke the surface. It was a sheepshead, a beautiful black and white fish that hangs out around pier pylons. It took a few more minutes, but he pulled it in, and he measured it to ensure it was the appropriate size for a keeper. It was well within the range. Dinner time!

When we got home, my son set to cleaning the fish. Because this is 2018, he first spent about 30 minutes on the couch watching YouTube videos on how to clean sheepshead. The internet is really something.

While my son was on fish duty, my daughter and I went into the other essential component of a fish fry – hushpuppies. We had the hushpuppy mix and read the directions on the side. It said we could either use a deep fryer or bake them in the oven. I asked my daughter which we should do. “What kind of question is that?” she said. Deep fryer it is.

My son soon had the fish cleaned and ready to be dipped in a batter. My daughter tended the hushpuppies on the back deck (I learned early on that deep fryers are an outside game, lest you want your house to smell like a Waffle House for a week; I love a Waffle House, but I don’t want to live in one). Oh, the perfect fish fry was on its way.

In short order, we were loving friend sheepshead and hushpuppies. My wife is not a big fan of fried food, so she politely tasted and then went back to some spinach concoction she created for herself. But the other three of us wolfed down our health food dinner, and enjoyed every fried minute of it. Not sure when we will try and catch dinner again, but I am sure it will be before we know it. And, whatever he hauls in for the catch I’m sure will be a perfect meal for the evening. Thank goodness the internet is there to tell him how to prepare it.

Childhood Family

Marvel(ous) memories

Comedian Bill Maher has made a career courting controversy with his politically-tinged comedy. That’s an arena I have never stepped foot in with this column, and don’t worry, I won’t today.

But he drew fire for a different reason last week, when he posted a blog entry about the passing of Stan Lee, the legendary Marvel mind behind such iconic comic book characters as Iron Man, Spider-Man, the Incredible Hulk, the Fantastic Four and many others firmly entrenched in our culture.

Maher made fun of fans who were expressing sadness for Lee’s passing, calling it “Deep, deep mourning for a man who inspired millions to, I don’t know, watch a movie, I guess.”

Um, yes, actually, 20 to date. I saw them with my kids, who were coming of movie age just as the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) was coming alive on the big screen. As Iron Man ushered in a new era of superhero movies, I saw my children stare at a movie with the same wild-eyed amazement that I did as a kid watching Superman soar across the screen.

As my kids started to get into the MCU, they started looking forward to each new film.

When new trailers would come out for upcoming movie, whichever one of us saw it first had to be the first to tell the others. And try as we might wait to watch it together, usually the first to find out about a new trailer would do a quick sneak-peek, just so when we were watching it together you could go, “Ooooh – watch this part!” Most trailers would be watched at least a few times in a row, to see what we might have missed. Then we have long discussions about what direction we thought the movie would go or what a certain thing in the trailer meant.

When the movies came out, we would always try to go opening weekend. It was there they learned the pro’s guide to movie maximization. Never sit middle. Sucker bet. View is just as good on the aisle. Also, free refills on the large popcorn. If you power though that bucket during the trailers, boom – get that bad boy filled up before the feature starts.

We love to stay for the stingers, those surprise scenes in the end credits. (There are always stingers in the MCU). We would wait through the credits, killing time before the scenes by seeing if we could find our names in the credits. Bonus point for an exact match.

When The Avengers first hit the big screen in 2012, they could not wait to see all the superheroes on screen at once. I remember my daughter seeing Agent Natasha Romonoff, aka Black Widow, kick the everlasting stuffing out of two bad guys while she was still tied to a chair, and watching my daughter stand up and pump her first in the air and scream, “YEAHHHH!!!!”

I remember watching my son as he saw The Incredible Hulk get his marching orders from Captain America: “Hulk – smash.” That was my son’s catchphrase for at least the rest of the day, every so often just randomly laughing loudly and hollering, “Hulk – smash.”

When we went and saw the latest Avengers movie, we sat in silence at the end. Some people may have gotten a tear or two in their eye. It doesn’t matter who.

Although my daughter is off at college now, my guess is that, when the final chapter of The Avengers comes out in 2019, I will do my level best to make sure we all see it together.

The day that Stan Lee died, I got two texts from my kids within three minutes. One read, “DAD! STAN LEE DIED. IT’S SO SAD!!!” The other: “Stan Lee died” followed by three crying emojis.

Stan Lee was 95 years old and had been reported to have been in declining health for a while, so his passing can hardly be called a shock. But it’s still OK to be sad. Stan Lee’s creations that eventually turned in the MCU that has brought joy to so many people. For my kids and me, Stan Lee gave us a part of their upbringing I wouldn’t trade for all the Infinity Gems in the universe. Thank you, Stan Lee. And, Bill Maher, yes, it’s because he did inspire millions to watch a movie. A lot of them. Together.

Childhood Family

Back to school

Well, this was certainly a different start to the school year.

Fifteen years ago, my wife and I took our daughter to her first day of 3K. I don’t remember what she wore that day, but I can guarantee you it was not overalls, as her mom was there. If you see any school pictures of my daughter in overalls, you can pretty much bet that her mom was not in charge that morning. I, on the other hand, had overalls as the go-to because (a) she looked really cute in them and (b) I’m not really great at coordinating cute outfits for tiny girl humans.

A few years later, her brother started 3K. Fifty-fifty chance on overalls on that day.

For the next 12 years, the two of them started school on the same day. We would always do the requisite first day of school picture, as is required by federal law. (Side note: To anyone who gets grouchy about people posting first-day pictures on Facebook, you should really just take that day off from social media. To me, first day pics are kinda the best part about social media. You get to see your friends and family and their kids growing up, and you get to see who’s wearing overalls and thus had dad in charge of first day outfits.)

That run has ended, however, as we dropped our daughter off at college this year. So a few thoughts on this year’s first day(s):

Move-in went surprisingly smooth. We loaded up two cars with Allie’s stuff and headed off to the University of South Carolina. When we arrived, we were instructed to park and unload all of her stuff on the curb. We were told we had 30 minutes to get stuff into the dorm, which was about three blocks away. Yeah, not happening.
It only took us about three trips, but we finally got everything into her room. Maybe an hour. Fortunately, those in charge of monitoring the unloading were understanding.
On the second day of her being there, she attended the Beyonce/Jay-Z concert, which students got for a mere $25. Before you think that’s an amazing deal, please remember the tuition cost required to be eligible for said deal.
My daughter’s first day of class was on Thursday at 4:30. It was weird not being there for her first day, but I did not allow myself to get too sentimental. After all, this was what we worked for over the last 18 years. This was the best possible outcome of our parenting. I did send her a text that read, “Don’t mess this up. We’ve invested too much in you to be a family shame.” Ha! I kid A little bad parenting humor. I texted, “Go with the overalls.”
While adjusting to our daughter not being at home has been weird, we have noticed that she had one particular utilitarian trait that we hadn’t truly appreciated: She got the mail, every single day. When it finally occurred to my wife four days after dropping her off, we had a mailbox stuffed with mail. Note to selves: The mail fetcher is gone.
Our son’s start to school was uneventful, fortunately. He is a high school sophomore, so preparing him for school is a relatively easy exercise. “You need anything for school?” “Nah.” “Clothes?” “Nah.” “Supplies?” “Nah.” “Nothing?” “Pop-Tarts, maybe?” Pop-Tarts it is.
His first day of school picture was a quick shot of him in the passenger seat in front of school, giving the look that only a 15-year-old can give, one that says, “Make it quick, Dad, before my friends see this.”

So I guess this is the new norm, and it will all change up again in a couple of years when our son heads off to college. But that’s life. It’s what we’ve worked for. It’s what we’ve been aiming for the whole time. No reason to wallow in self-pity because kids are moving on. I simply won’t do that. Now it you’ll excuse me, I think I want to go put on some overalls.

Childhood Family

To the Class of 2018

Oftentimes, at graduation, columnists will write an open letter to the graduating class. This column, however, is an open letter to just one of those graduates. But the rest of the Class of 2018 should take this advice as well.

Allie Gibbons, we’re proud of you.

I never doubted you would shine in high school. Or in middle school. Or in elementary school. Or in kindergarten.

I base this on the fact that one of your kindergarten teachers once contacted us and asked us to please explain to you that while your contributions in class were appreciated, you were not, in fact, co-teacher. It was clear from an early age you were serious about school.

You have shined academically, and I am confident it will be more of the same in college. You have shined socially, and I am confident it will be more of the same in college. However, you have not shined at keeping your car clean, and I am confident it will more of the same in college. Prove me wrong on that one.

As you close this chapter in your life, I want to share a few things with you as you embark on the next step of your amazing journey:

You have never been the kind of person to get embroiled in silly dramas (unless on stage, where you are supposed to be). That said, as you leave any high school dramas behind, remember there will be college dramas. And drama after college. Somewhere in a retirement home, there is drama. But you get to decide whether or not you want to be part of it.
Fill up your gas tank. There is no Gas Fairy at college that will make sure your car isn’t on empty in the morning.
Never get behind on laundry. Set a schedule, use that time to knock out some homework, and make it a ritual. Also, please remember that you are now in charge of your laundry, and it, like your gas tank, will never magically be taken care of.
Credit cards are not your friend. Budgets – and sticking to them – are.
Stop rolling your eyes. You know I’m right.
Some of your friends from high school are friends for life. Some you may never see again. And that’s OK. The length of a friendship is designed to be exactly what it’s supposed to be.
Be kind. You are a kind person inherently, but remember as you go into the world, you will meet an expansive array of people, far more diverse than you have experienced to date. And you never know how a simple act of kindness may help someone else.
You are a role model. And you don’t get to choose the person you are a role model for. If you always carry yourself in a manner in which you are being your best you, you will be a great role model.
You have a lot to learn. I don’t mean that in a negative way. I mean that the world is just opening up to share some of its amazing secrets with you. So listen. Absorb. Learn.
At the end of each day, look in the mirror. Ask yourself if you are pleased with the decisions the person you see made that day. If the answer is no, don’t beat yourself up. Correct those decisions and answer an emphatic YES! the next day.
Pay attention to red flags. If your gut tells you something, listen to it.
Never punch down. It’s a cheap and shallow way to feel better about yourself. An open hand down will always be better than a fist down.
Vote. In every election.
Be informed and critical in your thinking, and be willing to change your opinion if presented with facts that make you say, “Hmm. You have a point.” That said, be very discerning in where you get your facts. Remember, your old man logged a lot of miles in journalism, and the old saying, “If your mother tells you she loves you, check it out” is oft-repeated.
And lastly, know that you are loved. Immensely. By lots of people. And we are all proud of you. We cannot wait to see what this next chapter holds, and the chapter after that, and the chapter after that. So get cracking on the next adventure. Right after you clean your car.

Adventures Animals Childhood Family Vacation

Road trip!

I have recently completed a road trip with my kids, and I can safely say it included the perfect amount of buffalo slobber.

This road trip was done over their spring break, and we set off on a whirlwind tour of roadside attractions and off-the-beaten path adventures, which is really the only way to spend spring break.

It was just the kids and me, as we realized too far into the drive that we had left my wife back home. Either that or she was in Omaha on a business trip. I can’t remember.

Our first stop was the Wild Animal Safari in Pine Mountain, Ga. As is often the case, I didn’t tell the kids where we going, as I love to see the looks on their faces when we arrive at a destination. The Wild Animal Safari is just what the name says. You drive your car through this great big rolling field, and feed buffalo and Texas longhorns and wildebeests as they mosey up to your car and occasionally stick their giant heads in through the window. Fun fact: buffalo have horrible breath AND copious amount of slobber, some of which was distributed into the car interior and my kids courtesy of a well-timed sneeze.

After the safari, our next stop was the Little White House, the retreat for Franklin Delano Roosevelt. At the entry, there is an FDR mannequin in a wheelchair, complete with his dog Fala. Neat, we thought. When we got to the actual house, there was another mannequin in a wheelchair on the front porch. And then the mannequin lifted his hand and started perusing the brochure he was holding, because it was actually an older gentlemen (who sat remarkably still) waiting for his family to finish the tour.

Our next stop was at the Lunch Box Museum in Columbus, Ga., which is, without a doubt, the single greatest museum ever created. With thousands of lunch boxes on display, it is an amazing walk down memory lane, especially if you’re a child of the 70s or 80s. Happy Days, ALF, Six Million Dollar Man, Holly Hobbie. You name it, chances are it was there. There was also one lunchbox that featured “The Exciting World of Metrics,” apparently designed for the kid who wanted the Fast Pass to an awful elementary school existence.

The next day we made our way to Macon, Ga., where we stopped at a place

called Reboot Retrocade and Bar, which has dozens of old-time arcade video games and pinball machines, each costing just a quarter. Draft beer and some Galaga on a Tuesday afternoon? Don’t mind if I do.

Fortunately, kids are allowed in the bar in the afternoon, so mine were able to experience life in an 80s arcade. Minus the draft beer, of course.

Our final stop was at the Museum of Aviation in Warner Robins, Ga. If you’re ever passing through, I highly recommend you stop in and walk through the history of aviation and see some amazing aircraft, including an SR-71 Blackbird, which may be the coolest plane ever built. I’m talking Six Million Dollar Man mailbox level cool.

We hit a few other spots along the way, sometimes just pulling off on the side of the road because we saw something interesting, such as an abandoned football stadium or a hunting and fishing store called The Funky Skunk. We also caught up with some old friends along the way, which is always a treat.

Upon arriving home, we all agreed it was a quirky and cool road trip, the kind we love to embark on. Maybe next time we can remember to take my wife.

Childhood Family

Permit me to be terrified

Post author By Mike Gibbons
Post date March 8, 2018
No Comments on Permit me to be terrified

Disclaimer: This column is not about guns or gun laws. Yes, it starts with a mention of the gun debate as a jumping off point, but please don’t stop reading just because you see the word gun. I don’t do politics in this column, and never have. The most controversial subject I have tackled was the grand debate raging through our home on the proper way to eat corn on the cob. (The correct answer is typewriter style, not the barbaric way of corn cob rotation that my wife continues to try and indoctrinate our poor children with.) Now, to the column:

One of the talking points that comes up in gun discussions is raising the age of purchase to 21. A common rebuttal is, “Should we raise the driving age to 21, too?”

To which I immediately think, “YES! At least 21. How about 30? Can we do 30?”

I realize this is my knee-jerk reaction because, in less than two weeks, my son will be eligible for a learner’s permit. You know, that thing that means you are legally allowed to operate a car. An actual car. Yes, the state of South Carolina is going to be a-ok with that, assuming he can pass a written test.

This is the person who often cannot find his shoes, and when he does, they are often not in the same room, and have even been on entirely different properties.

This is the person who recently asked me if he could hide in the attic and sit above his sister’s room until she and her friends got there so he could pretend the house was haunted. (Answer: No, because your mother is home.)

And now this is the person who will be able to drive a car? Oh, lawdy.

In all fairness to him, I believe he does understand the big responsibility of being in charge of a car. And he is surprisingly risk averse when it comes to speed. Roller coasters? No thank you, for him. I am hoping that applies to when he is behind the wheel as well.

Initially, he was rather indifferent about nearing the legal age to drive. That is quite the opposite of his sister, who was there when the DMV opened the first morning she was eligible to take the test. Same with when it came time to get her actual license.

But he was kind of meh about the whole thing. We weren’t going to push it, because if he wanted to kick that can down the road, fine by us (and our insurance premium).

But the other day, we were driving along and he said, “Dad, want to hear something terrifying?”

My answer, of course, was, “What have you done?”

He said, “No, nothing. I think. But this is terrifying: In two weeks, I can get my permit.”

Terrifying indeed.

My guess? It occurred to him that, with a driver’s license, he has vastly expanded his potential fishing holes. He’s nothing if not pragmatic.

So this week I will go to the DMV and get him the study guide to take his test. When I told him that, he was thrilled that he was going to have to actually study for it. “Do you think I could just take it without studying?” I considered saying yes for a second, guaranteeing he wouldn’t pass that way. But that would be wrong for multiple reasons, so I said, “Trust me. You need to study the guide to pass the test.”

So fairly soon, I will take our freshly minted 15-year-old to take his learner’s permit test. But I’m OK if wants to hold off. I can take him when he’s a bit older. Say, 30.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike or at www.mikeslife.us.