Stroupe vacation (mis)adventures

I may not be on speaking terms with my family after our recent beach vacation. I can only hope they came to view our short stay at the ocean not just as a vacation, but an adventure. Or perhaps a misadventure. First I waited way too late to make reservations. I finally secured a little beach house for us to stay in less than forty-eight hours before we departed. Appropriately, it was called Little Beach House #1. I talked the realty people into giving us a great deal. I think they felt sorry for us. The house was close enough to the beach that we didn’t really need a golf cart. But I got one anyway since I had promised the youngest child we could rent one with the money we saved by getting a great deal. I named it “Little Golf Cart #1” in keeping with the spirit of the vacation/adventure. We left the family car in park and instead took LGC-1 everywhere we went, bein’s how they’re allowed on secondary roads at the beach. Minus an embarrassed teenager, I drove the family to an Early Bird special at a seafood restaurant up on the main strip at North Myrtle Beach. I had to off-road a few times and even ventured on the sidewalk for a few feet one time, but I got us there on back roads and parked on the front row directly in front of the entrance. We took LGC-1 to play putt-putt one day. This time I had to cross the busy highway to get to Hawaiian Rumble. You can cross the highway at a stoplight. As you can tell, I’m somewhat of an expert when it comes to golf cart rules at the beach. But apparently not expert enough. One night we left the two teenagers on the beach to hunt crabs while the rest of us ventured to grab some doughnuts a few miles away, an idea initiated by my lovely wife. “Let’s go on another adventure!” I remember her saying. So enthused and full of myself was I that I grabbed a Krispy Kreme paper hat on the way out of the store and stuck it on my head for the return trip. Just as my arm was extended to the left to indicate that I was turning to pick up my kids, a flashing blue light invaded the peaceful evening bliss. I quickly stuck my Krispy Kreme cap in the dash to appear mature and responsible. My officer friend informed me that golf carts weren’t allowed after dusk, which had occurred about an hour and a half previous. He than asked my youngest son if he should lock me up. When J.T. didn’t answer, I coached him to tell the nice officer to give Dad a break. Fortunately I remained ticket-free that night and was even allowed to keep all my doughnuts as well as the hat. But I received a well-deserved lecture from a sixteen-year-old when I recounted the events later that night. I don’t know if my family will trust me the next time I tell them we’re going on vacation. But with the possible exception of the oldest son, they’ll jump in when I crank up to go. As much as they hate to admit it, they love adventure as much as I do.