Days one and five of our five-day, 2,500-mile excursion were similar to other cross-country trips.

Days, two, three and four, not so much.

We left with Mouse the Daughter plugged in in the back seat, pretzeled into half the seat amidst bags of snacks, a giant cooler and her stuffed backpack. I learned that I had to stick my hand in front of her mirrored sunglasses to signal that I wanted to speak, and only then did she reluctantly remove one of her ear things to listen, nod or reply.

North of Cheyenne, the beloved boy truck (way, way snazzier and huger than the girl truck) suffered a blowout, so we were delayed three hours. In the meantime, I found a brown and gold, Wyoming Cowboys scooter that I coveted - very much.

When the over-eager salesman invited me to take it for a spin, both the friend and Mouse refused to allow it - at the very same time.

Days two and four we added Scott the Brother to the passenger list, and compared to car trips we took as younger people, we actually both behaved quite well.

On those days, I shared the back seat with Mouse and was jealous of her ability to pretzel into sleeping position in her half of the seat. And I was also envious of her long, athletic legs that allowed her to jump up into the back seat without struggling or the assistance that I required.

The brother's driving through the 80/94 maze south of Chicago had the friend a bit rattled, but the friend has never driven Chicago-area traffic on the afternoon before a three-day holiday weekend.

We arrived at our destination and realized it was quaint and rustic in a way underestimated by its Web site. "Resort" is not exactly how it would be described, although it had a Michigan woodsy charm that had Mouse photographing things like caterpillars stuck to the door frame and ant traps on the bathroom floor.

It also had a golf course, which made it a perfect place in the friend's opinion.

The reason for our trip was the wedding of my only unmarried cousin. And it was gorgeous. And the party was phenomenal. And all of the relatives loved the friend.

And then 36 hours after we arrived, we were on the road again.

Scott the Brother has many of his father's best traits, including planning things down to the minute. We had hoped to get to Omaha in time for a 5 p.m. Mass on Saturday, and we pulled into the church parking lot at 4:55.

After a delicious dinner cooked by the sister-in-law, seven of us piled into two convertibles and set out in search of fireworks displays. Just driving through the city with the top down seeing fireworks on every horizon was plenty spectacular for me.

But then he located a deserted business parking lot that gave us literally a front-row seat for a whole spectacular display.

And sitting there on a concrete stoop, with my brother and his wife and their two wonderful kids, the friend and Mouse, was just about the most perfect holiday I could imagine.

Community News editor Sally Ann Shurmur can be reached at (307) 266-0520 or sallyann.shurmur@trib.com. Read Sal's blog at tribtown.trib.com/Sal/blog