Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “wee.” Use the word “wee” or find a word that contains it and use it in your post. Have fun!
Now, I’m not quite sure of the spelling of this, whether it is actually “wee” or “whee” but I don’t care. I lived in Grand Rapids, Michigan as a child. If you know Michigan, you’ll know that that is in the lower-ish western portion of the lower penninsula. If you don’t know that, then a true Michigander will hold up their hand to mimic the geography of the lower penninsula and point. My grandmother lived about two hours south, in northern Indiana. That would be below the wrist…
It seems like it was always some cold, gray, dreary day that we did this, but a few times a year my family would all pile into the ubiquitous station wagon. Inevitably I was in the back cargo area, happily away from any sibling. I can recall my father griping every time we crossed the state line that the “roads became crap.” No offense, Indiana, and this was a long time ago. I vaguely remember there were two routes dad would drive, and my guess is we’d get on either Indiana 5 or 13. One road to grandma’s house (over the river and through the woods ♪) was what we called the “wee road.” How the kids loved it, and how my mom would grumble, which was probably one reason he chose that road (let’s just say they had a less than idyllic marriage).
One of those crappy, two lane roads through nothing but farm country sported a few miles of relatively small up/down/up/down hills. If you crested each hill with just the right speed the car, kids and unhappy wife would go sailing inside the car. We’d hit our heads on the car roof and bounce back hard into the seats. Repeat. Me, in the back? I would fly all over the place. We had our own mini zero gravity machine. We LOVED it. So many giggles, and we would all squeal “weeeeeee!” as we flew. No other word was uttered, just giggles and weeeee! It wasn’t pronounced with an H, so I think my spelling is sound here. (Yeah, child safety seats weren’t a thing back then…)
When we’d approach the state line we’d start whining to “take the wee! road, dad!” It wasn’t always a given, and I suspect both weather, if we were running to a deadline, and my parents’ moods fed into that decision.
As an adult, there were a few times this kind of experience happened while I was driving in San Francisco—usually not on purpose. But when it happened, yes, I did squeal out “weeee!” despite who was in the car.