If "naked" were a verb and other car-trip discussions

My friend, Sarah is loathe to admit her distant kinship to noted poet Ralph Waldo Emerson. Who wouldn't want to be related to such a talented lyricist, I've always wondered. Until now. I am now fully behind Sarah. The man who celebrates the notion that life is a journey, not a destination, has never traveled over on hour (let alone seven) in a car full of young people.

Case in point:  Passing a Toyota in Massachusetts with the license plate proclaiming "Eat lamb" sparked a heated discussion about whether lambs are raised on a farm or a ranch. "A farm is where you grow crops," I asserted confidently, "A ranch is where you raise animals." "I see," Sydney responded thoughtfully, "and you live across from a dairy...?" "Farm," I admitted glumly, metaphorical tail between my legs.

To my niece, Brianna's delight, we sang along to the radio for much of the ride. That's how we discovered that Sydney learned to perform CPR to the tune of "Another One Bites the Dust." I'm not sure that would instill a great sense of reassurance for a watching friend or relative and I'm not sure that I would be thrilled to be brought back from Death's Door to that particular song but I guess beggar's can't be choosers. "Take My Breath Away" is too slow, after all.

We lingered an hour or more on Taylor Swift's "Shake It Off," which, in my humble opinion, sounds like it should be sung by a man if you stay true to the title. We explored word families at length. "There's a lot of leaves so we have to rake, rake, rake!" I sang. "I'm scared because there's a snake, snake, snake!" Sydney chanted. "I'm hungry so let's eat a steak, steak, steak!" I suggested. "Oh! A homophone opportunity," Sydney Mosiman, daughter of an English teacher shrieked happily. "There's a vampire so we need a wooden stake, stake, stake!" "Wait a second," I pondered philosophically, "what's the root word for naked?" "Is it nake?" Sydney wondered. So...wonderful Readers, is naked the past tense of the present form of nake? If so, then "Don't come in because I'm nake, nake, nake!"

We attempted a political discussion which failed miserably because of my (understandable) confusion over the possible appointment of General Grievous. "General Grievous," Savannah asked, "you mean the Star Wars Separatist military strategist?" "No," I answered, "the Army general under consideration for Secretary of State." "Mom," Savannah sighed, "his name is Petraeus." Later, to redeem myself (which only ever results in making myself appear even MORE ignorant...if that's possible), I was discussing our relationship with Russia and mentioned its president, Voldemort Putin. Thus ended our three-minute attempt to appear mature by discussing politics.

The journey was over. No group was ever happier to have reached their destination.