My maternal grandparents lived on an island, it took about two long hours to drive there. Of course, I knew there was no point in asking “are we there yet?” Because we weren't there yet, or even close, until we had crossed the bridge to the island.
Then it would be another 15 minutes to get to my grandparents’ house. And those 15 minutes seemed like the excruciatingly longest part of the journey. I was always so excited to see my mormor and morfar.
Sometimes we stayed there overnight and sometimes we drove home on the same day.
If it was in the winter time, then the drive through mostly farmland, would be in pitch black. Except for briefly going through a village or small town, but then it would be dark again. Or the flash of light as another car passed by, going in the opposite direction.
In the darkness I would put my headphones on and listen to a tape on my walkman as I leaned my head against the cold glass of the window.
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