It's time to say "Thank You"

Here are Michael and Peter, our sons, somewhere on one of our summer drives from The Hague to Agia Trias in Greece. This is a very typical photo. We pulled a caravan behind our VW station wagon and drove the 5,000 plus kilometers every summer. We would leave our house early one morning (Judy would say, "Don't tell me what time we are going to leave, just wake me up and I'll go peacefully." These were the days WAY before video games, before personal music devices, before DVD players, before SUVs. These were the days when you got up and drove until sunset. We made it a rule never to drive at night, so that meant we started looking for a camp ground in the late afternoon. A typical day would be leave after breakfast and drive until a new stopping place.
Here's the trip:
Day One: depart The Hague and camp that night in Germany, probably near Stuttgart.
Day Two: Drive into Austria and camp before the Loibel Pass (14 degrees of steepness: "Do NOT attempt this pulling a heavy caravan." said the sign posts.
Day Three: Over the Loibel Pass into Yugoslavia and camp in Llubliana (a really lovely city, very old fashioned and interesting)
Day Four: Drive to Zagreb and camp. We would then go to the Gypsy Market in town and look at (or buy) gypsy clothing which consisted of a large skirt, an embroidered apron, and an embroidered blouse. Many times there were sweat stains on the blouses.
Day Five: Drive to Slavonski Brod where suddenly you were in a completely other landscape: much more dry.
Day Six: Drive to Beograd, the capital. Here it was a rough camp just outside the city on the main highway.
(Oh, the Main Highway! This deserves a special note. It was called The National Highway and there were stone portraits of Marshal Tito and sometimes groups of teenagers wearing red bandanas and using shovels and rakes to "build the road." For many kilometers, the road was only two lanes and you could be stuck behind a very old truck going 20 kilometers an hour. We actually passed one on a hill and the driver was sitting OUTSIDE the cab with the door open smoking a cigarette. There was a large brick on the accelerator!!! There were a million Turks driving home from Europe to Turkey, with Ford Econoline vans filled with several family members AND a TV, refrigerator and furniture tied on the top. This was a dangerous drive because drivers with fast BMWs or Mercedes would try to pass by driving in the left lane INTO the oncoming traffic and then zip back into line. There were burnt out wrecks every kilometer or so.)
Day Seven: Drive to Nis, the capital of the water buffalo kingdom and completely different people.
Day Eight: Drive to Skopje, the capital of Madedonia (and Titov Veles--the poorest town in the country)
Day Nine: GREECE at last. We would go directly to Agia Trias, our favorite village and hit the camping there. Finally, finally a swim. Finally, finally good food and we could rest.
The vacation was usually the whole summer and then the drive back.
As the family got older, we sold the caravan and did the trip in THREE DAYS! We drove fast and furiously through Germany and slept the first night in Austria. We hit the National Yugoslavian Highway the second day and drove as far as we could, almost to the Greek border. And then, on the third day, we would cross into heaven. Even Michael and Peter had opportunities to drive in Yugoslavia, which changed their perspectives on road safety.

Anyway, they grew up in Europe and went to the Haagse Montessori Lyceum in The Hague. They spoke Dutch with their friends and at school, and, in effect, became Dutchies. Or, Haagenaars. Now they are grown men, husbands, fathers and (still) sons. They decided to help us celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary with a paid trip to London. This was a perfect gift for us: we love London, we love theater and we love going cheap (on them). A funny part of the story is that Michael was in London on business and departed Heathrow on the exact morning of the day I arrived. The timing was too tight for us to meet at the airport, since he had to check in right while my plane was landing. But, we thought about it for a while before we decided it was impossible.
So, thanks boys. A perfect gift.