Some Frazzes are shamelessly autobiographical; this is not one of them. Sure, I remember getting carsick as a kid, just as I remember getting routinely goblin-green airsick as a student pilot. And, while not enjoying it, not minding it, either. A small price to pay.
A small price to pay for what? For flight, of course, that one’s easy. The other? When I was a kid? Well, readers of a certain age will remember The Dukes of Hazzard, and of Waylon Jennings singing about “straightenin’ the curves, flattenin’ the hills,” and I would have none of that. The curvier and hillier, the better, and I found that if I leaned over the front seat between my parents and looked out the windshield through binoculars, the blandest country road turned into an absolute roller coaster. There was a price to be paid, for sure, in the currency of splitting headaches and nausea, and it seemed a fair price. In retrospect, I feel a little silly about it, but a lot less silly than I’d feel if I were one of those people who insists on riding shotgun on the basis of carsick tendencies and then proceeds to dink around with the tiny text on a phone screen the whole drive.
ACK! Premium Member almost 7 years ago
If she can’t see out the rear windows she’s too small for the seat belt and ought to be in a child’s safety seat.
Phred Premium Member almost 7 years ago
A walk in a park with fall colors is nice.
Arianne almost 7 years ago
I’m not sure- in the last panel, is the little girl talking to Frazz, or to us?
Night-Gaunt49[Bozo is Boffo] almost 7 years ago
Frazz
10 hrs ·
Some Frazzes are shamelessly autobiographical; this is not one of them. Sure, I remember getting carsick as a kid, just as I remember getting routinely goblin-green airsick as a student pilot. And, while not enjoying it, not minding it, either. A small price to pay.
A small price to pay for what? For flight, of course, that one’s easy. The other? When I was a kid? Well, readers of a certain age will remember The Dukes of Hazzard, and of Waylon Jennings singing about “straightenin’ the curves, flattenin’ the hills,” and I would have none of that. The curvier and hillier, the better, and I found that if I leaned over the front seat between my parents and looked out the windshield through binoculars, the blandest country road turned into an absolute roller coaster. There was a price to be paid, for sure, in the currency of splitting headaches and nausea, and it seemed a fair price. In retrospect, I feel a little silly about it, but a lot less silly than I’d feel if I were one of those people who insists on riding shotgun on the basis of carsick tendencies and then proceeds to dink around with the tiny text on a phone screen the whole drive.