1 . My father was born in a small town in the US. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from _______, but something told him to _______ and begin a new adventure. He began that adventure traveling to cities in the US before going on to Australia, New Zealand and the Philippines. He took my mother and us three daughters with him and went wherever the road _______ him.

It’s easy to feel _______ when you’re on the road. We made lots of new friends on our trip — most of them are mechanics, since we often _______ hours in repair shops. But that was a way much _______ than sitting by the roadside while waiting for the engine to _______ when it was 40℃ outside.

Getting along well sometimes seemed _______. There were always a lot of _______, especially among us back-seat passengers about who had to _______ in the middle. But even if it was hard, we learned a lot about _______. When we were traveling in the Philippines, we drove to Quezon City one day. It should have been an hour’s drive but was nearly three thanks to bad roads and _______ traffic. “Did you put our suitcases in the car?” my father asked my mother as we arrived there. From the back seat, we saw her slowly turn towards my father. “No,” she said. “I thought you did.” That was how a three-hour car trip turned into a nine-hour one, which was mostly spent in _______.

On occasions like that, we had to learn to let go of our anger because we were _______ in a rolling box with the same people for the rest of the _______. Even if I sometimes felt like opening the car door and _______ one of my sisters out, I kept my feelings to myself.

This is why road trips were like _______ universities to us. We _______ our PHDs in how to get along with other people just by traveling in our old car.

If we were _______ given a second chance at life, we would do it all over again. Only this time would I put the _______ in the car myself.