Next Time I'll Pack a PB&J.

There's nothing quite like hitting the open road with your dog--sun in your face, wind in your hair... steering wheel gripped with your knees as you struggle at 65 curvy miles per hour to open a jar of peanut butter so your dog can lick it off your fingers when climbing through the pass at 4000 ft elevation so she won't whine about the discomfort in her ears she doesn't understand but knows she doesn't like...holding the jar with your thighs, flinging the lid on the floor where it lands sticky-side down, then holding the wheel with one hand as you contort your other hand--wiggling a peanut butter-gobbed finger behind the seat at the general direction of the back seat where the only other passenger is looking back at you in the rear view mirror like the crazy woman that you are.