Our weekend vacation from the sweltering California
summer would’ve landed us in the cool Pacific Ocean. The
dusty, rolling hills of the San Joaquin Valley were behind us, and
only a few small towns separated us from the beach when the
Chevrolet died. Hours in the hot car and a bumpy tow truck ride
brought us to a nameless town and a generic hotel with no cable
or Internet.
That night, huddled in the same room with the kids, we
passed the time like my wife and I had as children: Telling jokes,
ghost stories, and creating new games. Greatest vacation ever.
