Did anyone else ever go on a road trip with their parents, and do something that made their mother or father so annoyed that they pulled the car off the road and delivered a spanking on the spot? Mine did.
Actually, in retrospect, I guess I was lucky it didn’t happen sooner than it did, because until I turned nine, I had avoided spankings of this sort entirely.
In fact, while my parents weren’t completely opponents of spankings, the only spankings I had earned were generally few and almost always limited to a few swats to the seat of my pants. Bare bottom, over the knee spankings probably totalled no more than a half dozen occasions.
What changed all this was a road trip that my mom and I took – the summer I turned nine – with Bobby Jenkins, my best friend, and his mom.
My mom and Mrs Jenkins were driving to the beach together, with just we two boys, since both my dad and Mr Jenkins had had to stay in the city to work until the following weekend.
This was something that we had done for the last two years, with the two fathers then driving down in the other family’s car three days later, with both family’s staying in the same beach rental for the week.
The problem occurred when Bobby and I started fooling around and finally getting into an argument of the type that drives parents nuts.
And unfortunately, even though we were warned to behave several times, with phrases like ‘if I have to stop this car, someone’s going to be sorry’, we just didn’t listen. After all, we were nine, and apparently stupid!
Finally, however, Bobby’s mom had had enough. Suddenly pulling off the New Jersey Turnpike and into a roadside rest stop, she braked the car to a halt in the parking area next to several picnic tables, reached into her handbag and pulled out a hairbrush.
Quickly getting out of the car, she jerked open the rear door where Bobby was now huddling and already begging his mom not to spank him, tearfully promising to behave. To no avail.
Reaching in and grabbing him by the arm, she told him that she had warned him and warned him and now he was going to pay the price for not listening.
And with that, she dragged him out of the car, quick-marched him to a nearby picnic table and in spite of several of the other nearby tables being occupied, yanked down his pants and underpants to his ankles, pulled him up and over her knee and quickly began spanking him with the hairbrush, all the while scolding him and promising more of the same if he misbehaved again.
By the time she was done and put him back on his feet, Bobby’s backside was clearly bright red and obviously very hot and sore – as he made all the clearer by crying and hopping around, trying to rub the sting from his bottom, only to ultimately fall down when his underpants and jeans, still tangled around his angles, tripped him up.
It was an amazing and frightening spectacle for me – now standing with my mom outside the car – and one made all the worse when I realised that several of the adults occupying the adjoining tables were openly smiling, with several actually quietly applauding.
I remember standing there and really feeling sorry and embarrassed for Bobby – right up the the moment when Mrs Jenkins turned to my mom, handed her the hairbrush, and asked her if she wouldn’t like to put it to a similar use!
I then remember turning to my mother at the same moment that she turned to look at me, and the look on her face darkening as she slowly smacked the hairbrush in her hand once or twice.
Then, obviously reaching a decision, she grabbed me by the hand, and hauled me – now also begging and protesting – over to the same table where my friend had just been so embarrassingly punished. A moment later, as Bobby was finally pulling his own pants up, mine were coming down.
Needless to say, my own public ‘over-the-knee performance’ won a second – and apparently even more amused – round of applause from the adult onlookers.
And as my own spanking finally ended with an equally embarrassing ‘red bottom dance’ of my own, I also vividly remember several of the older kids at one family’s table grinning.
Needless to say, we drove the rest of the way to the beach that day with both Bobby and I gingerly trying to avoid directly sitting on our still well-heated rear ends.
Worse yet, after this mom started carrying her own hairbrush on family road trips. Moreover, from this time on, until I turned 13, it was all too regularly used.