1 Coffee Shared 4 Ways: The Tyranny of Road Trip Dad


It’s Road Trip Week at Bon Appétit! Which means every day, we’ll be sharing stories about food on the long and lonely highway. Or not so lonely if you grew up traveling across the country in a minivan packed with six of your closest brothers, sisters, friends, and Poochie the carsick beagle. So buckle up, and don’t make us turn this car around.

Growing up, my family took one vacation a year. Every summer, we’d trade in the hot, sticky New Jersey suburbs for the even hotter, stickier, and decidedly more mosquito-dense beach towns of South Carolina and Florida. Where exactly we headed for each year wasn’t dictated by the prospect of seeing family or friends—it was simply the cheapest option my dad could find.

Naturally, flying was never an option on these budget-conscious trips; we always drove the 14 to 18 hours to our destination, often in a single day. Even after my sister and I were old enough to drive, it was always understood that my dad would be behind the literal and metaphorical wheel every mile of the way. The patriarchy was alive and well in the Chaey household.

We took only a couple of pee/snack/gas breaks on these epically boring road trips, a result of my dad’s obsession with making record time on the road and aversion to spending money on gas station snacks that made my mouth water, like Hot Fries and peach rings. They, like 90% of the things I wanted to buy in my childhood, were deemed “useless.” Meal breaks, however, were a welcome respite from nearly a full day’s worth of highway roads where the only things to do were nap, listen to the complete works of Billy Joel (again, Mom?!), or read and try not to throw up. My dad thrilled in …read more

Source:: Bon Appetit