When you grow up among the largest lakes in the world, it’s almost inevitable that big water will linger in your childhood memories. That’s true for my brothers and me–but getting to the shore also persists in memory, in a different way.

You see, we grew up in the pre-SUV era of station wagons. Pre-seat belt, too. Better (or worse) yet, our family station wagons featured deployable rear seats that faced backward. That gave us a fine view of traffic overtaking us on the highway–and the chance to score points in our game of “how many truckers can you get to honk by waving?” Simple fun.

It came with a price, however. Riding backward at 70 miles per hour does not always agree with a child’s stomach. As dependable as our joy in leaving home for the lake was car sickness. Somewhere along the way, one or more of us would call out to Dad, “I don’t feel so good.” I can still remember the ding of the turning signal as he pulled the car to the shoulder, the swish of passing cars as we stood in the grass beside the road, and the long moments of waiting for something–or nothing–to happen.

The story always had a happy ending. Our stomachs would settle, our travels would end at an open-water vista, and days of digging and lying in the sand would follow. What’s a little discomfort when measured against seemingly endless days of freedom from care?