The No-Tech Road Trip
We took our kids on a 35 hour road trip - screen free. Here’s my verdict.
Destination: Karijini National Park
Time to destination: 16.5 hours
Number of children: 3
Number of seats in the back: 3
Amount of space between each child: >2 centimetres
Number of devices available to each child: Nil
Let me start by saying – this is not an opinion piece about judging other parents. We’re all just trying to do the best we can in an age defined by the double edged sword that is personal screen-based technology. Yes, it’s the way of the future. Yes, it’s a world they all have to learn how to navigate and yes, they would be at a disadvantage if they didn’t.
Nevertheless, my husband and I are raising our three children to resist the urge to reach for a screen the second they feel bored or restless. They don’t have iPads. Apart from a school issued laptop, there is one communal homework computer in our house and despite being armed with nothing but a non-Internet Nokia flip phone, our 13 year old daughter somehow manages to forge ahead with a happy, meaningful life.
This low-tech philosophy extends to long periods in the car, including our recent 35 hour round trip from Bunbury to Karijini National Park. That’s right; ten year old boy-girl twins and a 13 year old girl in the back seat with no devices or headphones to detract from the horror of being squished together, side by side for all that time.
Some parents would say we’re crazy. I mean, it’s not like our kids get along or anything crazy like that. They provoke and aggravate each other constantly – especially the two girls. It makes those rare moments of connection and kindness between them all the more special. In our experience, road trips are where the magic happens. Because we make it happen.
For the first while, on the Karijini trip, the kids ignore each other as best they can. Apart from a few snarls with regard to personal space, there’s not much interaction. Just whinging.
“Why couldn’t we go in the other car? … Why do we have to listen to this music? … Why can’t we get those TV screens on the back of the head rests? … When are we stopping again?”. It goes on.
Inevitably, they turn on each other. There’s squabbling, shoving and elbowing. Accusations and insults are hurled. We grit our teeth and tell ourselves it won’t last, that they’re just getting it out of their systems.
Roughly three hours in to the drive, maniacal laughter from the back heralds the arrival of Captain Insane-o; aka our son, Greyson. Every road trip, lollies and ginger beer transform him from a quiet, introspective child into a shrieking, thrashing mass of hyperactivity (albeit a good-natured one). It’s a pretty intense experience for everyone and we vow never to give him sugar in the car again. Then the next trip rolls around and somewhere in between pulling up for the first fuel stop and paying for the diesel, our resolve waivers, weakens and then evaporates. See? I’m not a perfect parent. Far from it.
But I think it’s because, on some level, we’re aware that Captain Insane-o serves a purpose. He is hilarious. Greyson can be a real comedian when he wants to be. The smallest of the three, he usually sits in the middle between his two sisters and his antics get them both laughing and talking, first to him and then to each other.
With their moods now lifting, the kids pull out paper and pens and the drawing games begin. Giggling gives way to hilarity. Other characters emerge as their imaginations take over. Greyson is a tyrannical king and his sisters are his long-suffering servants charged with holding up his arms at exactly the same level while he barks orders and punishes them with punches not quite hard enough to hurt. They experiment with different accents. One is a farmer from the southern states of America, one is a snooty English school girl, one is a fearsome Russian gymnastics teacher.
When the physical barriers between the sisters finally break down we know that the latent but deep-seated bonds of siblinghood have fully taken hold. In a game dubbed “Casserole”, Charlize clutches Leila’s foot tightly in her hands and tickles it under the guise of adding potatoes, carrots and celery to the pot. For two girls who are usually repelled by each other’s touch this is a rare and welcome development. At one point I glance behind me and am blown away to find them using each other as pillows!
It’s not all smooth sailing. There are still cross words and melt downs. It takes more than just a long drive to make best friends out of traditional enemies. But once they’ve passed that initial period of adjustment they’re better able to navigate the ups and downs for the rest of the trip. It’s a temporary alliance borne out of the shared trauma of being forced to occupy the same small space for hours on end. And we, the parents, sit back and bask in the warm glow of harmony – fleeting though it may be. These are memories any family would want to create. It would be such a shame to squander them. It might not work for everyone but it's definitely worth a shot.