"Growing up outside Manchester, my family's idea of luxury was finding a Travelodge with a working ice machine. Meanwhile, my university friends would casually mention their families' trips to the Cotswolds, complete with boutique hotels and gastropub dinners. But here's what I've learned after decades of reflecting on those cramped car journeys with my parents and siblings: Those "budget" road trips created something money can't buy."
"But there's something magical about the morning ritual of making sandwiches together, arguing over who gets the last of the good crisps, and then eating them wherever you happen to be when everyone gets hungry. My father would pull into the most random places - once it was behind a closed petrol station, another time in a church car park. We'd sit on the kerb or the car bonnet, passing around warm bottles of squash, getting jam on our faces."
Growing up outside Manchester set modest expectations of holiday luxury, such as finding a Travelodge with a working ice machine. University peers experienced boutique Cotswolds breaks and gastropub dinners. Budget road trips involved cramped car journeys, improvised picnics with homemade sandwiches eaten in random car parks, warm bottles of squash, and jam-stained faces. Those chaotic moments and shared small struggles fostered strong family bonds and enduring stories. Wealthier families often plan holidays meticulously and miss the spontaneous, messy moments. Limited resources encouraged creative entertainment in the car, cultivating memory-rich interactions that curated trips rarely replicate.
Read at Silicon Canals
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