Dad was very organized when we traveled. He always made an itinerary which he sent to our grandparents. He usually did most of the driving and he always packed the car.  Mom used to send us to distract him while she tucked in an extra pillow or bag.  We usually had a picnic lunch on the way.  I remember one time we stopped by a river where there was a picnic table.  Dad had some trouble lighting our camp stove so that Mom could cook hot dogs.  The camp stove suddenly caught fire and Dad, reacting quickly, picked up the table cloth, stove and all and flung them into the river.  Exciting but dangerous.

One day Dad was angry at all of us for some reason and stopped talking all morning in the car.  Eventually, we pulled up to a small creek with some overhanging trees.  We dutifully spilled out of the car and spread out our blanket for the picnic.  Dad ate in silence, but took time to warn us very sternly about not walking on the rocks in the creek in case we fell in because we'd have to travel on in our wet things.  After lunch, Dad went to wash his hands in the creek and stepped on the rocks.  Of course, he slipped off a rock and fell in up to his shins.  Dad was the first to laugh about it all and then so did we.  Everything returned to normal and it became one of our favourite stories on him.  :D