Traveling with Seniors


My sister and her family rented a cottage in Maine for a few weeks this August. The cottage is owned by a family we have known since my Aunt and Uncle bought the cottage down the street 40 yeas ago. Vacationing in Maine is a tradition that we have kept alive all these years by renting nearby so we can visit with them and not invade, now that we come in packs. It also allows my parents a place to stay and visit with everyone.

We left on a Thursday morning. It was a comfortable day, in the seventies and barely a touch of humidity. My Dad drove the first half of the trip so I sat behind him. As he started the car the air conditioner blew heavily.

“Can we turn that down?” I asked.

My Dad agreed that it was a bit much while my Mom protested. He adjusted the controls and found a happy medium that did not blast us so heavily that my hair blew in the breeze. Mom adjusted her vents and dropped the temperature in her zone. I put my lightweight jacket on. Somewhere around the mid-point of the trip we stopped for lunch and switched drivers. By mid-afternoon we were off the Maine turnpike and headed for the coast a short distance away. The thought occurred to me that it would be cooler here in Maine and it might be nice to get some fresh air, smell the sea breeze with the windows down.

“Can we turn this off now?” I asked, pointing to the AC buttons.

In the flattest tone of shock imaginable came the reply form my Mother, “what?!”

oh well.

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