Jul. 20, 2006 – Originally published by CNC, Inc.

Summer Highway Report: It's Going To Be A Frumpy Ride

It is time once again for my first-annual summer road report, letting you know the conditions on our nation's highways. I will be specifically addressing the road that goes from here to Columbia, Md., which we will just call "the road my husband told me to go on," since I don't know any highway numbers or route numbers whatsoever, much to his dismay. He'll start babbling about, "All right, get on route 128, take this to Mass Pike West, follow this past Worcester to route blah-blah-blah" and I will just tune out, and think about my current hairstyle, or sleeping late in my girlhood bedroom down in Maryland. So, he gives up, year after year, and writes out the directions in my language: "Go to the end of our driveway. Take a right. DO NOT stop and talk if you see any girlfriends, as it will get dark and you'll still be at the corner talking, with your blinker on. Take the highway that you were scared on in the snowstorm to the highway where the purple flowers grow, and that connects right to the highway where you thought you were having appendicitis. Follow that to the New Jersey Turnpike (known in your brain as "the highway with the best rest stop") and you're almost there! Have fun and be careful - check in every 20 minutes or so!"

So here is the highway report for fiscal year 2006 - we, as a nation of travelers, are...frumpy! We are crowding the nation's rest stops as one wrinkled mass of carbohydrate-craving wrecks! No matter how fancy cars get, with their GPS systems (don't have one) or their DVD players (don't have one) we still fall out of our cars at the rest stop tired, wrinkled, and hungry for bad food. You know the drill - you start the trip with everyone clean, buckled in with perhaps a game on their laps and a song in their hearts, and somehow along the way, not ever leaving your seats, your clothes are torn and stained, your hair turns into a Ronald-MacDonald afro, and the inside of your car looks as if it hosted a WWF wrestling championship. The kids are fighting like wildcats, your cell phone is lost in the seats, and you can manage to locate the map, but it is a map of the wrong state. You enter the rest stop, and before you know it, you are at a sunglasses kiosk trying on frames while your kids choose between Sbarro and Cinnabon, which are always at opposite ends of the eating court. Ah, summertime.

Now I would like to report on the state of our highway's restrooms, with the input of my 7-year-old correspondent, my youngest son and only companion on this latest trip. He is not happy about having to use the ladies' room on these trips, and we both still cannot figure out what is going on in the ladies room. Where did all the knobs and handles go? Now you just wave at everything, praying it will somehow "recognize" you and perform the intended function: flushing, giving you water, or giving you a paper towel. Nine times out of 10, you are, to use a technical industry term, "waving wrong," so you stand there waving idly hoping your wave will "take." Also, we can put a man on the moon, but we can't make toilet paper that will be strong enough to not break inside the plastic wheel, leaving you snaking your hand up into the wheel clawing at wisps of toilet paper? Industry professionals need to look into that.

On to our last area of concentration: the tolls on "the road my husband told me to take." Now, he got me an EZPass, which I love. All of America should invest in this. With EZPass, you sail through the toll, not scrounging for money in your seats, breaking a sweat because you cannot find a quarter. There is a nice little green light that goes on when your EZPass is "recognized" and you feel great about your trip, your husband, and travel in general. However, ironically, my 7-year-old correspondent and I were stuck in Friday night New Jersey beach traffic, and there was a back up only in the EZPass lane because so many people were trying to use its speed and convenience! Get that! I scrounged for the real money instead.

In conclusion: our nation's "highway that my husband told me to take" has never been faster, safer, or better-equipped with state-of-the-art restrooms, so rest assured, America, and travel well this summer. Just bring your own toilet paper, and work on your "rest-stop wave" - just to be safe.