My father was born in a small town in the US. He wasn't sure what he wanted from life, but something told him to 1 and 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 road 2 him.
It's easy to feel 3 when you're on the road. We made lots of new friends on our trip—most of them are mechanics, since we often 4 hours in repair shops. Although that was seemingly boring, that was a way much better than sitting by the roadside while waiting for the engine to 5 when it was 40℃ outside.
Getting along well sometimes seemed 6 . There were always a lot of 7 , especially among us backseat passengers about who had to sit in the middle. But even if it was hard, we learned a lot about 8 . 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 and 9 traffic. "Did you put our suitcases in the car?" my father asked my mother as we arrived there. From the back seat, we saw her 10 turn toward my father. "No, " she said. "I thought you did. " That was how a sevenhour car trip turned into a 16hour one, which was mostly spent in 11 .
On occasions like that, we had to learn to let go of our anger because we were 12 in a rolling box with the same people for the rest of the journey. Even if I sometimes felt like opening the car door and 13 one of my sisters out, I kept my feelings to myself.
This is why road trips were like social universities to us. We 14 our PHDs (博士学位) in how to get along with others just by traveling in our old car. If we were 15 given a second chance , we would do it all over again. Only this time would I put the suitcases in the car myself.