My father was born in a small town in the US. He wasn't sure what he wanted from1, but something told him to2and begin a new adventure.
He began that adventure traveling to cities in the US before going on to Australia, New Zealand and the Philippines. He took my mother and us three daughters with him and went wherever the road3him.
It's easy to feel4when you're on the road. We made lots of new friends on our trip - most of them are mechanics, since we often5hours in repair shops. But that was a way much6than sitting by the roadside while waiting for the engine to7when it was 40℃ outside.
Getting along well sometimes seemed8. There were always a lot of9, especially among us back-seat passengers about who had to10in the middle. But even if it was hard, we learned a lot about11. When we were traveling in the Philippines, we drove to Quezon City one day. It should have been an hour's drive but was nearly three thanks to bad roads and12traffic. "Did you put our suitcases in the car?" my father asked my mother as we arrived there. From the back seat, we saw her13turn toward my father. "No," she said. "I thought you did." That was how a seven-hour car trip turned into a 16-hour one, which was mostly spent in14.
On occasions like that, we had to learn to let go of our anger because we were15in a rolling box with the same people for the rest of the16. Even if I sometimes felt like opening the car door and17one of my sisters out, I kept my feelings to myself.
This is why road trips were like18universities to us. We19our PHDs(博士学位) in how to get along with other people just by traveling in our old car.
If we were20given a second chance at life, we would do it all over again. Only this time would I put the suitcases in the car myself.
