The best-laid plans ...

Today, we ride.

That is, just as soon as everybody's up and ready and we get the car loaded. Us adults have been up since 7. It's a beautiful day in Hokksund, Norway. The sun is shining, and it's neither too warm or too cold. Mia is beaming, because Mia loves life and that's just how she lives it.

There is, however, a snag. Well, two snags. One is more of an omen. We'll get back to that.

The first snag is, our shit won't fit.

The plan was good. Our measurements were exact. And yet, the roof box Volvo supplied us with won't close. There was one flaw in our reasoning, an unknown unknown, if you will. We'd measured out placing everyone's duffel in the box, and we made a point of bringing duffels, not suitcases, for that reason — because they squish. When your luggage is just a little bit overstuffed, you push the lid down, pull the zipper, and presto!, it stays closed. In our minds, the roof box would work the same way. We'd just need to press the lid down, lock it, and off we go.

Not so fast.

This roof box — a Volvo Space Design 420, which as far as we can tell is a re-branded Thule product — is ingeniously designed to prevent you from locking it if there's pressure on the lid from the inside. You can't squish. Cue a two-hour game of three-dimensional Tetris. We have:

  • Four duffels.
  • Five sleeping bags.
  • Four air mattresses.
  • Two medium-sized backpacks.
  • One cooler.
  • One collapsible baby bed.
  • Two tents.
  • The Kelty framed child carrier.
  • Odds and ends.
    • The essentials for eating on the go: Cutlery, paper plates, paper towels, a box of sandwich bags, etc..
    • The baby's life jacket. Those things take a surprising amount of space.
    • Pillows and towels.
    • Uncategorized crap that always shows up at the last minute.
The carrier turned out to be a trooper. Two weeks on the roof in Norwegian weather, no complaints. Maybe it felt guilty for not fitting in.

At least the diving gear is tucked away in the SporTube, which, per our measurements, straps down politely next to the roof box. No drama from that one. The backpack child carrier, however, with its non-squishable frame, is being a prima donna and won't play well with anything else. No matter how I slice and dice it, that thing is not going in the car. Guess what, Kelty: You're riding on the roof. That's what happens to assholes. The roof, come rain, wind, drizzle, snow, sleet, hail, sea spray, or clouds of mosquitoes and midges, all of which are likely. I strap it down to the SportTube, tuck away all loose ends, and cross my fingers. (Pro tip: Bring extra straps.)

All the while I'm sweating, swearing, and smudging our pristine new Volvo climbing up and down, by turn emptying, filling, and reshuffling the roof box, the other snag sneaks up on me: Getting six people, including two teenagers, ready at the same time and with a minimum of alacrity is near impossible. And that's the omen, a warning of things to come that I didn't heed at the time because I was too damn busy cramming the car: The challenge is not taking a road trip with a toddler. The challenge is keeping a road trip on the rails with teenagers. Which, more on that as we get underway.

It's 11:30 by the time we close the doors and roll. Next stop, Kaupanger.

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