My mom grew up on a diary farm. My grandmother's house, though in reality was about 40 miles away as a kid, seemed like it took hours to get to. Part of that had to do with the winding dirt roads that required a less than 30 mph speed but a lot of it was the cramped amount of us kids in that station wagon.
It was my two brothers, my sister (who always rode in the front seat with our mom), and me. I was sandwiched between the boys and they would push me around to the other if I got too close. On rare occasions, they would fight over who got to sit closest to me and argue about who I liked more. But that was only sometimes. Usually, they were pushing me away and flying kites out of the passenger windows. (My mom was, and still is, the most oblivious person I have ever met.)
When we'd get to Grandma's, we'd torment each other to touch the electric fence holding in the cows. (My brother Ben actually did once!)We'd terrorize the garden, depending on what season it was, or climb the trees for a crab apple. Then we'd collect dandelions and rub them on each others' faces. Stephanie was usually inside, playing Spades or Euchre with the relatives. My brothers and I were the hoodlums. We'd get a game of kick the can going and only stop for refreshments.
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