Memories of Car Travel #1... fighting

Riding in a car can be a challenge with kids. I was the middle child of three in the days before mini-vans and DVD players for the backseat passengers... when we still looked out the windows for amusement. I do remember admonitions of "Keep your hands to yourself," and "Yes it IS your turn to sit in the middle," but for the most part I don't remember much fighting.  Perhaps that is selective memory.  Perhaps the same endorphins they say make women forget the actual feeling of labor pains also numbs the memories of childhood fights. I only remember my father actually pulling the car over to the shoulder once. We were fighting in the back and repeatedly had been told to quiet down with the barest of temporary response.  Dad never said a word, simply pulled over and tuned the car off.  There we sat as big trucks roared by.  As car after car passed on their way, we continued to sit at road's edge. Eventually we figured out that these cars must be filled with better  behaved children and we quieted... nothing from the front seat. Then we pledged cooperation....still nothing, no motor restarting, no comment.  

At that moment a state trooper pulled up behind us and the tallest man I had ever seen stepped up and asked my father what the problem was.  Dad explained that he had pulled over because the noise in the backseat had made it impossible for him to concentrate on driving. He had pulled over until he was confident that he could drive safely.  The trooper shone his flashlight into the backseat when we sat frozen in its beam.  "Three kids?,"  he asked Dad.  "I have two young ones myself....They sure can make a racket sometimes."  The two exchanged a glance, no doubt of sympathetic understanding one dad to another.  "How much farther do you have to go?" "We're headed another four hours to the shore," Mother answered wearily.  The trooper nodded again and then peered back into the backseat.  "Be nice if you could get there in time to sleep tonight wouldn't it Sir? ....Shame if you had to stop too often along the way.... You might be too tired tomorrow to drive to the beach." With one more stern look at us, and [I later was told] a conspiratorial wink at Mother and Dad, he stepped back and said... "Take the time you need, then you folks go ahead and drive safely."  

After he drove off,  Dad started the car back up and pulled back onto the highway blessed by peaceful quiet in the back seat, and a spirit of desperate cooperation that lasted  for the remainder of the trip.