The Grand Canyon means one thing to me — assault on the West Rim. Picture a huge yellow warning sign that reads: “No food, no water, no overnight camping, and no help for the next 120 miles.” Then picture a blue-and-white station wagon loaded down with two adults, three kids (one still in diapers) and a hyper brown-and-white spaniel all bumping down a one-lane dirt road.

I know one thing — those 120 miles where the longest period in my recent history. We saw one other dirt-streaked car the entire journey. When we finally arrived at our destination, the West Rim, we all piled out of the car only to watch the overactive dog vault out of confinement, race to the edge of the cliff and nearly tumble over into the vast gorge below.

That wasn’t all the fun we had on our moving expedition from Michigan to California, but it certainly was one of the highlights.

The Grand Canyon means one thing to me — assault on the West Rim. Picture a huge yellow warning sign that reads: “No food, no water, no overnight camping, and no help for the next 120 miles.” Then picture a blue-and-white station wagon loaded down with two adults, three kids (one still in diapers) and a hyper brown-and-white spaniel all bumping down a one-lane dirt road.

I know one thing — those 120 miles where the longest period in my recent history. We saw one other dirt-streaked car the entire journey. When we finally arrived at our destination, the West Rim, we all piled out of the car only to watch the overactive dog vault out of confinement, race to the edge of the cliff and nearly tumble over into the vast gorge below.

That wasn’t all the fun we had on our moving expedition from Michigan to California, but it certainly was one of the highlights.