Mom pointed excitedly out the car window. “Look! A cow!”

My brother, Elliot, and I both groaned. We had been driving through farmland for four hours, and Mom had pointed out every single cow and horse.

“Look out your side, Wendy!” Mom cried from the front seat. “Sheep!”

I stared out the window and saw about a dozen gray sheep—fat, woolly ones—grazing on a grassy green hill. “Nice sheep, Mom,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“There’s a cow!” Elliot exclaimed.

Now he was doing it!

I reached across the backseat and gave him a hard shove. “Mom, is it possible to explode from boredom?” I moaned.

“BOOOOOOM!” Elliot shouted. The kid is a riot, isn’t he?

“I told you,” Dad muttered to Mom. “A twelve-year-old is too old to go on a long car trip.”

“So is an eleven-year-old!” Elliot protested.

I’m twelve. Elliot is eleven.

“How can you two be bored?” Mom asked. “Look—horses!”

Dad sped up to pass a huge yellow truck. The road curved through high, sloping hills. In the far distance, I could see gray mountains, rising up in a heavy mist.

“There’s so much beautiful scenery to admire,” Mom gushed.

“After a while, it all looks like some boring old calendar,” I complained.

Elliot pointed out of his window. “Look! No horses!”

He doubled over, laughing. He thought that was the funniest thing anyone had ever said. Elliot really cracks himself up.

Mom turned in the front seat. She narrowed her eyes at my brother. “Are you making fun of me?” she demanded.

“Yes!” Elliot replied.

“Of course not,” I chimed in. “Who would ever make fun of you, Mom?”

“When do you ever stop?” Mom complained.

“We’re leaving Idaho,” Dad announced. “That’s Wyoming up ahead. We’ll be up in those mountains soon.”

“Maybe we’ll see Mountain Cows!” I exclaimed sarcastically.

Elliot laughed.

Mom sighed. “Go ahead. Ruin our first family vacation in three years.”

We hit a bump. I heard the trailer bounce behind us. Dad had hooked one of those big, old-fashioned trailers to the back of our car. We had dragged it all over the West.

The trailer was actually kind of fun. It had four narrow beds built into the sides. And it had a table we could sit around to eat or play cards. It even had a small kitchen.

At night, we’d pull into a trailer camp. Dad would hook the trailer up to water and electricity. And we spent the night inside, in our own private little house.

We hit another bump. I heard the trailer bounce behind us again. The car lurched forward as we started to climb into the mountains.

“Mom, how do I know if I’m getting carsick or not?” Elliot asked.

Mom turned back to us, frowning. “Elliot, you never get carsick,” she said in a low voice. “Did you forget?”

“Oh. Right,” Elliot replied. “I just thought it might be something to do.”

“Elliot!” Mom screamed. “If you’re so bored, take a nap!”

“That’s boring,” my brother muttered.

I could see Mom’s face turning an angry red. Mom doesn’t look like Dad, Elliot, and me. She is blond and has blue eyes and very fair skin, which turns red very easily. And she’s kind of plump.

My dad, brother, and I are skinny and sort of dark. The three of us have brown hair and brown eyes.

“You kids don’t know how lucky you are,” Dad said. “You’re getting to see some amazing sights.”

“Bobby Harrison got to go to baseball camp,” Elliot grumbled. “And Jay Thurman went to sleepaway camp for eight weeks!”

“I wanted to go to sleepaway camp, too!” I protested.

“You’ll go to camp next summer,” Mom replied sharply. “This is the chance of a lifetime!”

“But the chance of a lifetime is so boring!” Elliot complained.

“Wendy, entertain your brother,” Dad ordered.

“Excuse me?” I cried. “How am I supposed to entertain him?”

“Play Car Geography,” Mom suggested.

“Oh, no! Not again!” Elliot wailed.

“Go ahead. I’ll start,” Mom said. “Atlanta.”

Atlanta ends with an A. So I had to think of a city that starts with an A. “Albany,” I said. “Your turn, Elliot.”

“Hmmmmm. A city that starts with a Y…” My brother thought for a moment. Then he twisted up his face. “I quit!”

My brother is such a bad sport. He takes games too seriously, and he really hates to lose. Sometimes he gets so intense when he’s playing soccer or softball, I really worry about him.

Sometimes when he thinks he can’t win, he just quits. Like now.

“What about Youngstown?” Mom asked.

“What about it?” Elliot grumbled.

“I have an idea!” I said. “How about letting Elliot and me ride in the trailer for a while?”

“Yeah! Cool!” Elliot cried.

“I don’t think so,” Mom replied. She turned to Dad. “It’s against the law to ride in a trailer, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Dad said, slowing the car. We were climbing through thick pine woods now. The air smelled so fresh and sweet.

“Let us!” Elliot pleaded. “Come on—let us!”

“I don’t see any harm in letting them ride back there for a while,” Dad told Mom. “As long as they’re careful.”

“We’ll be careful!” Elliot promised.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Mom asked Dad.

Dad nodded. “What could happen?”

He pulled the car to the side of the highway. Elliot and I slid out. We ran to the trailer, pulled open the door, and hurried inside.

A few seconds later, the car pulled back onto the highway. We bounced along behind it in the big trailer.

“This is so cool!” Elliot declared, making his way to the back window.

“Do I have good ideas or what?” I asked, following him. He slapped me a high five.

We stared out the back window. The highway seemed to tilt down as we headed up to the mountains.

The trailer bounced and swayed as the car tugged it.

The road tilted up steeper. And steeper.

And that’s when all our troubles began.