I insist on driving straight through, as long as possible, not stopping for food, leg stretches, or gas station bathroom breaks.
Brad's style is more relaxed. We stop every 3-4 hours for food or a stretch. He'll get the kids out of the car and let them run and jump and play.
Those road trips are usually more fun. I know. It's a shock. In fact, we usually see really interesting things.
Once we stopped to eat our lunch and came upon this sad state of affairs:
A flightless baby bird
and its poor dead brother.
Maybe you don't know Brad. If not, you should know he's an animal person. He rescues turtles. If he sees a turtle in the middle of the road, he'll stop, run to pick it up, deposit it several yards from the road, and drive away. He wants a dog. Actually. He wants a lot of dogs. He has drawn up plans for a house on a property containing an entirely separate, quite large dog paradise. He's rescued horny toads. Homeless dogs. Unwanted lizards. Lots. of. turtles.
It's one of my favorite things about him.
So, it shouldn't surprise you that after a little internal debate (what's best for the bird in this situation?), he did this:
I would never. I mean, salmonella. Rabies. Mites. I don't know. What is it birds have?
Anyway. Who knows if the bird survived. Maybe its mother wouldn't feed it after that. But. It wasn't doing any better on the ground. And we all felt happier. (Mostly. As soon as I pulled out the Purell I was totally good.)