The long and winding road

When I was a kid my parents used to force my brother and I to go for endless long car rides all over hell's half acre. They just loved nothing more to sit in the damn GMC Suburban for hours on end and just "look at the colours". I hated it more than life itself.
As a matter of fact, I still hate to drive anywhere and look eagerly ahead to the star trek teleportation phase of the future.
On this particular weekend we were headed somewhere US bound - more than likely Port Huron Michigan as this was my Mom's favourite place for shopping at Target and going to the Sweden House all you can eat buffet (but I think we covered that one in an earlier blog!)
My parents piled our suitcases into the back of the giant ass 1970s suburban - this must have been about 1976 - and hurried us in to the car.
Brush your teeth! Comb your hair! Put your coat on! Tie your shoes! Get in the bloody buggery car!!!!
So we got in the car - didn't fasten our seatbelts because there were none - and headed off on the St. Clair family road trip.
When we hit London, the car had heated up to boiling and my sullen 7 year old brother was still sitting there with his coat on. I remember that coat - it was plaid with a corduroy beige collar - what a weird thing to remember.
"Take off your coat" my Mom said.
"No." my brother said.
"Take off the damned coat"
"No - I'm cold"
"You are not. Take off that coat NOW!"
And off came the coat.
Under the coat, my brother wore no shirt.
He cried and cried and insisted that my mother had told him to put his coat on but mentioned nothing about a shirt.
We ended up stopping in London at Kmart that day. And my brother got a nice new shirt. A cowboy shirt as I remember it.
Rewarded for being just that little bit dumb. But funny. Oh so funny.