The monthly magazine of the Winnebago County Bar Association, "The Lawyer," has recently run some fascinating travel articles describing the vacation trips of some of our Association's members. Fascinating to me, largely because of their unfamiliarity.

I have selected some scenes from my vacations. Some of you may recognize them in your own lives. Others may find in these scenes a glimpse of what you managed to avoid when you had no children.

We are taking a trip to Colorado. "We," at this time, is me, my wife and two children. I know there are two of them because they fought continuously from Illinois to Colorado without ever looking outside to see any of the scenery.

We are camping at the Colorado National Monument. In a tent. During the night, the wind and rain pick up. Our tent. After the wind puts the tent down again, we get out and into the car. A 1988 Chevy Nova. A compact car. With four of us, a very compact car.

We continue to a family reunion, which is pleasant. Little did we know that one of the family children had chicken pox. One of my children gets chicken pox right away; the other one has it, but we don't know it yet. I drive my Nova home to Illinois in a car so quiet I feel like I am driving a hearse.

We are camping in Missouri, on the way to New Mexico. "We," is still four of us, but we now have a minivan. We want to get as far as possible, so we drive a long time. Too long. We find a choice camping spot next to a rodeo. With a loud announcer. But soon the rodeo is over. And the country music dance starts. I do not care for country music. There are, however, distractions to break up the noise from the dance, such as a very loud train. Every half hour.

In the Midwest, you can hear and smell the rain coming a long way off. Since no one is actually sleeping anyway, we decide to run for it. We throw the tent and sleeping bags into the back of our palatial minivan, and drive. It is about 1:00 a.m. The rain hits.

We drive through the night in the rain toward New Mexico. Our gas gauge sinks lower and lower. My wife obligingly points this out to me. Of course, since it's now 4:00 a.m., and I have had about one-half hour of sleep, I take this suggestion very well. Of course, no gas stations are actually open at this time of night, wherever we are. As the needle drifts alarmingly toward "E," we stop at a gas station, and wait 15 minutes until it first opens for business.

New Mexico is beautiful at sunrise.

We are camping in South Carolina. The heat is stifling. The humidity has somehow managed to reach levels over 100 percent, so when you take a breath, you feel like you are drinking the air. Mosquitoes laugh at our repellent. My wife cracks. We go to a motel. We bathe. We laugh. We swim in a beautiful blue pool. The air conditioning is wonderful.

We are camping in Missouri again. You would think I would know better by now. Night is usually a nice peaceful time when you are camping. You can put the kids to bed, look at the stars and relax. My son therefore chooses this time to ram his head into the world's rustiest barbecue grill, as I get him ready for bed. He bleeds. Profusely. Who'd have thought the little boy had so much blood in him?

We wake the campground "host," who obligingly points us to the nearest emergency room. Fifty miles away on two-lane highways.

After careening through the night to the hospital, and receiving five stitches in his forehead, my son is, of course, the only person with any energy. Maybe the practice of bloodletting had something to it.

Of course, there have been some beautiful times. Whales in Maine. Sea turtles hatching on a beach and crawling to the ocean. Watching the full moon come up next to a mountain at Big Bend National Park in Texas at night, and then hiking in the cool of the morning. The Badlands and Yellowstone.

Two of my three children, amazingly, have decided that they do not like camping.

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John Rearden, Jr. practices in the area of employment law with Oliver, Close, Worden, Winkler & Greenwald in Rockford. He is on the Editorial Board for the Winnebago County Bar Association's monthly magazine, "The Lawyer," in which this article originally appeared.