Surrey without a fringe on top

We took a surrey ride in Philadelphia. Surrey rides promise to:

Catch the attention of passersby!

Provide transportation plus entertainment!

Promote healthful exercise while taking in the sights!

Create family memories!

To all I give an emphatic, Yes!!

It started out quite picturesquely: Sunny, mid-60's with a slight breeze, new sneakers per the Vacationers Rulebook, overpriced stuffies (Snakey and Snowy) from the Zoo gift shop, me at the helm and my husband a co-pilot. This will be perfect, I thought. No one will complain about the heat or being tired. We'll zip along the historic Boathouse Row and be back in time to run up the Museum of Art's steps like Rocky.

The route was a straightforward out and back on a well-paved, well-marked trail along the Schuylkill River, dotted with statutes, parks and other historic landmarks. We'd pass under a railroad bridge and turn around at the Ulysses S. Grant statue, 1.2 miles out.

Gentle reader, I once got lost driving from New Orleans to Baton Rouge, despite it being a straight shot on I-10. I ended up hundreds of miles away in Mississippi. This trip proved my sense of direction is still just as terrible twenty years later.

In my defense, the complaining started almost immediately and was relentless. It would have distracted the most focused traveler. I'M FREEZING! OHMYGOD I'M GONNA DIE I'M SO COLD! MOM, WHY DID YOU FORGET TO BRING OUR SWEATSHIRTS?! JFC, if you're old enough to toilet yourself shouldn't you be old enough to bring your own clothing?

I tried getting them to run alongside the surrey to warm up but that suggestion garnered just as many complaints. They wanted to peddle instead, despite being 2 feet too short for the mechanism. Snakey almost got stuck in the peddle. My daughter DID get stuck in the peddle and fell off. She sustained only minor physical injuries; jury is still out on the emotional ones. My husband barked that he was sick and tired of the complaining. I gave out withering looks and threatening pep talks. Guys, sometimes life is tough, and you suffer, but we WILL survive this. It's ok to be uncomfortable! WE WILL LAUGH ABOUT THIS SOMEDAY!

Finally, to get them to shut up, I whipped off my hooded long-sleeve shirt (what a well-planned piece of clothing for the day's outing!) and shoved it at my daughter, who was currently complaining the loudest. I was left wearing my black sports bra. Friends, I'm at peace with my imperfect body, but I have probably exercised in a sports bra sans shirt twice in my entire life. My pale, soft belly, on display for all of Philly's midmorning traffic, was the least of my concerns, though. When C started complaining, I made B give him the sweatshirt. Lots of wailing and gnashing of teeth. Where the FUCK is Ulysses S. Grant?!

After what seemed like hours, we made it to a park bench from which we could see a 7-Eleven, its fluorescent sign in the distance like a sketchy beacon of hope. Maybe they have cheap touristy sweatshirts? I sent my husband off to look while I dispatched drills like a Navy SEALS sergeant. Ok kids, 10 pushups! Butt kicks! Jumping jacks! This'll get your blood moving! C realized he lost his headband along the trail and started to lose his mind. I called my husband for an update. No sweatshirts, but I really have to pee. Sounds like a personal problem. I left B and husband to watch the geese and use the porta pottys while C and I turned the surrey around and high-tailed it out of there. They were supposed to catch up but never did.

Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry

When I take you out in the surrey

Goddamn right they'd better scurry. This is a precarious operation at best.

C huddled in the front basket, knees to chest, covered by my black hoodie like ET while I peddled furiously. He yelled Hola to every single person we passed and got mad if someone didn't respond. Oh wait, what's that? It's Ulysses S. Grant. Why the hell is he so close to the beginning of the trail? Ahhhh! We overshot the route. Our little adventure totaled 7 miles instead of a little over 2. I may be slightly out of shape, but that surrey bike was the hardest thing I've ever peddled, and I've done a 15% incline in 102 degree heat. The extra friction must have stemmed from the emotional anguish or a flat tire. C gleefully tattled on me to the bike attendant: Mama drove way past the trail marker! The teen must have taken pity on me as no extra charge was incurred. My husband and daughter eventually made it back on foot, and we left the traumatic scene in short order. I discretely gave Rocky the middle finger on the drive home. Think you're so tough? Try running up those stairs with your entire family, hotshot! But my ire was softened by fatigue and the relief that we'd all made it back to the Kia in one piece.

Don’t you wisht y’d go on forever and never stop

In that shiny little surrey with the fringe on the top?

Things must be different in Oklahoma.