I feel both exhilaration and terror when I ponder the prospect of my first road trip. The terror namely stems from the fact that I am one of the driver’s. I couldn’t sleep at all last night and my ever so slight OCD got a bit worse. If I take the stairs two at a time, no one will die in my car; If I avoid volume 13 on my radio, no one will die in my car; If I avoid all the cracks on our tiled floor, no one will die in my car…and so on.
I’m just really hoping that no one will die in my car.
Fortunately, the majority of my friends refuse point blank to get in my car – they’ve been in it before, you see, and the prospect of a four hour drive with me behind the wheel doesn’t exactly float their boat, especially after what happened on the way to Stonehaven…
…something we don’t EVER mention.
But anyway, I gave myself what my Dad calls a damn good talking to. I just have to take my time, be aware, and NOT PANIC. If there was some sort of drug I could take that would stop me panicking in a car (there must be one out there) I would definitely become an addict. Sadly, I’ll just have to breathe deeply and count to ten, despite knowing that that remedy is complete bullshit.
Right, road trips are meant to be fun so I’m going to stop whining now.
The place we are heading to is Kinlochbervie – a place that is even further north than my home village. Brr. But it looks BEAUTIFUL and we’re staying right on the beach. I do love Scotland beaches; the sea; the wind – there’s just something extremely exhilarating and adrenaline pumping about them.
Probably the thought that you’ll die of hypothermia if your little toe so much as grazes the water.
So really, I’m more excited than I am terrified; or I will be once we have arrived and no one has died in my car. I’ll write again tonight so you know the outcome. And if you don’t hear from me…well, just assume the worst.
Over and Out.
P.s. I have packed the essentials:
Boos and crisps…that’s all you need for a holiday, isn’t it?