Road Trip at Thanksgiving
by Rose Ferguson
I remember that one year my parents took us to Detroit for Thanksgiving. It was supposed to be a surprise for my grandparents, that all their children and grandchildren would be home for Thanksgiving.
I had sprained my wrist on the playground at school, and I had some sort of soft cast on my arm. We drove up in my dad’s tiny hatchback car instead of renting a car, I’m not sure why. I got to sit on the end the entire time, never having to sit in the dreaded middle seat, because of my injury.
My dad had us practice saying “Ciamar a tha?” all the way up to Detroit, to say to my Grandpa when he saw us.
I don’t remember how the “surprise” went off, I was only 9. I do remember sitting at my grandmother’s table for Thanksgiving dinner, and Grandma cut all my food up in tiny bites for me. I had to eat left-handed because of my arm.
I can remember going up, but I don’t remember the trip home. Like all trips to Detroit, the best part was getting and being there, not going home. Playing the license plate game with Kevin and hearing Dad sing “Are we there yet? (no it’s just a stop sign) Are we there yet? (you’re driving me out of my mind)” which I am still not sure if that is a real song or not.
My grandparents: Hughie Ferguson and Greet Macdonald
My dad: Dave Ferguson, Hughie and Greet’s son
Kevin: Rose’s brother
Characters • Ferguson, David • Ferguson, Hughie • Ferguson, Kevin • Ferguson, Rose • Macdonald, Greet • Stories • Storytellers • told by Rose Ferguson | Dave Ferguson May 27, 2006
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By Dave Ferguson, May 27, 2006 @ 9:41 pm
Rose,
This was the year that we moved from the townhouse to the house on Gainsborough Drive. That was around 1988. If that’s the right year, Kevin was about to turn 5, and you would have been 8.
One reason we decided to make the trip was that no one was expecting it — we’d just moved into the new house on the first of November. That’s one reason we didn’t rent a better car (or a bigger one): we couldn’t afford it.
We had two cars at the time: my Dodge Colt, which was pretty new, and the much older Plymouth Reliant (which was not). The Colt was slightly better looking than this picture (you’d be surprised how hard it is to find pictures of 20-year-old crummy cars):
So that’s why the five of us crowded into the Colt for the 540 mile trip (one way) from Fairfax, Virginia, to Detroit.
I had checked with my brother Bruce so we’d be sure to know where Thanksgiving dinner would be. And we parked a little out of sight. We sent you and Kevin to the front door, telling you to knock and to ask what time dinner would be.
It was a terrific visit — everybody had a good time, and you and Gillian and Kevin did well to endure the 540 mile drive back home.
By Gillian, May 29, 2006 @ 7:18 pm
I remember I had to sit in the middle the whole way there and the whole way back. I also remember how excited Grandma and Grandpa were to see us. And how Dad and Bruce kept teasing her by saying, “If only Artie were here,” over and over again.