By Sue Trollip
I took a family vacation to Boise, Idaho a few weekends ago. An odd destination made apparent by the bold looks of disbelief I received whenever I mentioned it beforehand. (Why Boise? Well, it was a scientific decision as are all well-planned holidays … basically we calculated the amount of hours we could spend in a car together while still remaining friends and found a place no one had visited on that arc of the map.)
We tried to set off early so the munchkins could sleep … a most enticing theory.
Half an hour before we reached our breakfast destination I got pulled over by the cops. He took one look into the car, explained some law that was not applicable in the State where I got my drivers licence and, with a look of sympathy at our car resembling an African taxi minus the chickens, waved us off.
It felt Karoo-like. I loved the drive.
Visiting the Botanical Gardens.
Eating Idaho potato ice-creams at the Westside drive-in diner.
Then we drove home.