Dad packed the car before dawn so we'd beat the traffic. We never did — but the flask of tea and the crossword got us most of the way.
Mum knew every layby with a good view. She'd point and we'd groan, and then we'd stop anyway and it would always be worth it.
I want the grandchildren to know he sang the same three songs, badly, the whole way down. That's the bit I don't want to lose.