It is possible that every road trip from Hell includes either in-laws or future in-laws. Mine included the latter.

My then boyfriend of about six months invited me on his family's two week road trip/camping vacation through Canada and the Eastern seaboard. The trip sounded like fun, and I was smitten with this guy, after all. So I packed my gear (a lot of it) and we loaded into two vehicles. We were quite a crew: my honey, his mom and dad, younger brother, and a cousin.

Things went well in the beginning. But after a while, eight hours a day in a car with either my future in laws, or my future brother in law got old, very old. After a long day driving we would stop and pitch our tents, sit around the campfire, and his family would proceed to make me feel like a complete family outsider. First thing in the morning we would pack up and start over...not my idea of a relaxing time!

The trip came to a crescendo when we stopped at a convenience store in Pictou, Nova Scotia. I really needed a cigarette, or two, or ten by this time. But I was trying my best to make a good impression on these people! It was at this point that I learned that Mom always puts her purse in the car trunk, AND that Dad cannot be trusted with car keys, AND that older model Buicks do NOT have easy access to the trunk through the back seat of the car. Yes indeed, my future father in law locked the keys of the car not only in the trunk, but within the cooler in the trunk. Hours of cursing later, thanks to the assistance of a very kindly coffee delivery man, we were back on our merry way.

Because I was not a family member (yet), I had the good sense to snap a quick picture of Dad in the backseat...he was not smiling. And my husband wonders why I always ask him if he has keys in his hand before closing car doors...

They all got the last laugh though. When we stopped at the beach in Salisbury, Massachusetts, I got knocked over by a wave and completely lost my bikini top. No pictures were taken, but my future brother in law asked if we could stage the scene again so he could get a picture. Needless to say, I told him no. I no longer wear bikini swimsuits.

Learn more about this author, Pam Thompson.
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