Terry Mackin column: Lessons learned on summer vacations

As I prepare for an upcoming summer vacation, I always reminisce about my childhood vacations.

Somehow, someway, Mom and Dad always found the means to pack up the car and head to the Ozarks, Florida or Colorado.

Dad came from a big family. Summer vacations weren’t in the budget. I’m sure our summer vacations were another way for him to give us a little more than he had as a child.

The Mackins went on vacation every summer. Never fancy. Neither were we, though.

We drove our family car. We always got lost the first day. Dad never read a map. Mom and Dad would bicker in the front seat. Getting lost was just part of our trip. I inherited a lot of things from my dad. Being directionally challenged is one of them.

Stuckey’s was our favorite highway pit stop. Great burgers. Crispy fries. Pecan rolls that kept us boys steady customers at our dentist Dr. Lipe’s office.

I’ll always remember driving to Florida in Dad’s new blue Plymouth Valiant. The car was not air-conditioned so the windows were rolled up for some of the drive. Dad didn’t want anyone to know he had bought a new car without air conditioning. We didn’t complain, though. Our old cars didn’t have working AC, either.

One summer, we rented a rustic cabin in the heart of Rocky Mountain National Park. The city-bred Mackins were back to nature. By nightfall, our mountain cabin was infested by moths the size of hummingbirds. Our mountain cabin stay lasted one night before we checked into the Holiday Inn in downtown Estes Park for the rest of the week. From that day forward, Dad said he enjoyed the beauty of the mountains more from a distance than up close.

Growing up, we loved going to The Lake of the Ozarks. We called it Bagnell Dam. We never got on the lake, though. We spent our days at the hotel pool and our nights feeding quarters in the batting cages on the downtown strip.

We went to the big resort in French Lick, Ind., once. All meals were included. That’s not a good thing for chubby boys. We ate. Napped. Ate again. Five or six times a day. Had to get our money’s worth.

In hindsight, over the years, I learned a few valuable lessons on summer vacations and I jotted them down as I prepared for my vacations this summer:

Never volunteer for the middle seat. Whether in car or plane, riding the hump is no fun. If you must sit in the middle seat, mark your territory early or you’ll be a pin cushion between sprawling knees, elbows, feet, heads. I was the youngest of three chubby boys. I rode the hump every trip. The worst part was quick turns. The best part was I had straight access to Mom’s bag of snacks in the front seat.

If you’re skin tone is Irish, always wear a dark T-shirt on the beach. I learned the painful way in Florida as a kid. Blisters the size of silver dollars on my shoulders. I was so pale, I swear I was sunburned through my white T-shirt.

If you don’t recognize anything on the menu, always order a grilled cheese. It’s the universal lunch.

No matter where you are, don’t bother asking another guy for directions. I don’t care if you’re in Colorado, Maine, Belleville or Dublin, Ireland. Don’t ask a male for directions. Guys everywhere are directionally challenged. I’m one of them. We have no idea how we got here, much less how to tell you to get there. So we make it up. Honest. Ask a woman. They read — and understand — maps.

When driving as a parent, at some point you will stop the car, turn around and say something like, “If you don’t behave, I’ll turn this car around right now. ...” Years later, when your kids are driving the car on vacation, their vivid imitation of you will bring a roar of laughter. Be ready.

If you’re not from here or there, don’t try to dress or talk like you’re from here or there. Everyone knows you’re on vacation. You’re a tourist. It’s OK to be that out-of-town guy.

Sign it’s time to go home: You’re looking forward to going on a trip to the local outlet mall for the third time. One rainy day at the outlet mall is enough for any vacation. Two days, maybe. Three days? You should have gone home yesterday.

Don’t ask a local expert to teach you to fly fish. Or someday you’ll be standing in a mountain stream, wearing stiff waders past your knees, learning the very expensive way that a guy can teach you to fly fish, but the guy can’t catch fish for you.

Remember it’s better to leave for home a day too early than a day too late. Staying one extra day can ruin a great vacation. Leave while you still want more. Save something for next trip.

Take it easy on the souvenirs. All that stuff I had to have as a kid. The rubber tomahawks. The Indian drums. The pop guns. The slingshots. All lost and forgotten by the time I got home.

Take a lot of photos and videos. Trust me. Someday, you’ll treasure them. They’ll make you laugh and smile. They’ll make you wonder where all the years have gone. They’ll make you want to go on a summer vacation.

This story was originally published July 11, 2015 at 3:00 AM with the headline "Terry Mackin column: Lessons learned on summer vacations."