our last camping trip was an ill fated adventure from Orlando (where we lived at the time) to Key West. I was 16. It was my parents and my 3 siblings, and my dad's brothers' families. So a convoy of 3 vehicles, one hauling a Scottie trailer. The series of misadventures along the way are now legendary stories in our family, from the fact that one uncle is afraid to drive over bridges (and he didn't know about the 7 mile bridge which was actually under construction at the time), to the fact that tent stakes cannot be pounded into the coquina of Pennycamp Park, to the time the other uncle got shocked (not fatally), to the cousin who stuck his finger into a fan to see what would happen, etc (seriously the list actually goes on and on, and it was only a 7 day vacation). We ended up staying in a small old Florida motel which was the very best part of the vacation. When we got back, dad donated all the camping gear.