Think back on your most memorable road trip.

Piling into Mom’s Buick, loaded down with snacks and Mad Libs, Jon and I couldn’t wait to go on our first vacation. It was the summer of 1989, and I had just finished 7th grade. Jon was 8, and Bryan was only 15 months old. Bryan was fast asleep in his car seat, but Jon and I were way too wired to sleep.

We lasted about two hours before we were knocked out.

Somewhere in North Carolina, our diet of Pop Tarts had caught up to us and Jon wasn’t feeling well. Dad had pulled over to a truck stop so he could give Jon a shower. I sat in the car with Mom and Bryan, who was happily sleeping after being changed and fed.

“How much longer?” I whined, completely over the charm of a road trip.

Mom was studying the TripTik and she gave a cheery, “Only about four more hours!”

I groaned. Four hours might have been four days, four years, forever.

But still, I was going to see the ocean. I was going on vacation. Neither were things I had done before.

Our radio station had faded again, and Mom began looking for a new one. It was mostly static with the odd preacher here and there. Suddenly, there was crystal clear music.

“Keep it here!” This song had been following us through many states over many hours. The beautiful, yearning voice. The singer telling a story of driving somewhere she desperately wants to be. Just like us.

I was dreaming while I drove
The long straight road ahead

“You aren’t tired of this one yet?”

No. And I never would be.

A few hours later and several more plays of “I Drove All Night,” we began to see the signs for the beach.

“Look!” Mom shouted while pointing to the first sign.  “The beach is just a few miles ahead!”

Everyone perked up, even Bryan who really had no idea what was going on. His sweet baby babbles added to the joy in the air.

And then without warning, it happened.

We crested the hill we had been climbing, and on the other side, spread out wide and sparkling before us, was the ocean.

Could taste your sweet kisses, your arms open wide
This fever for you was just burning me up inside

Everyone stopped talking, and just stared. She was magnificent. Waves upon waves of blue water, white sea foam, and the sun twinkling like glitter off of her surface. It was amazing.

I drove all night to get to you
Is that alright?

That night, after much-needed baths and naps, we sat in a little beach cafe at the end of a pier. We were in a round corner booth with large windows all around us. Bryan stood up in the booth, mesmerized by the water as he ate a mushy fry. Jon and I couldn’t stop talking about all the things we wanted to do. Mom and Dad were tired, but so happy.

That was the first of many family road trips to the beach, and I’ve been blessed to have had many more in my life. There was the time Brax and I went on a road trip where we spent about six hours reading through the subreddit Am I The Asshole and debating whether or not strangers are, indeed, assholes. There was the time Jon and I drove across the country to deliver furniture to a friend and we listened to John Scalzi audiobooks the whole time.

And then there are the solo road trips I’ve taken. The time I drove to Pittsburgh to see Rent. The time I drove to Niagara Falls for a wedding.

They’re all beautiful, they’re all memorable, and they all hold special places in my heart. But nothing will ever be like that very first time in that magical summer.