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“The Smoking Trunk” is a humorous yet tender family travel essay that transforms a minor mishap into a meditation on memory, imperfection, and connection. Through a wry narrative voice and sharply observed domestic comedy, the story illustrates how ordinary travel frustrations become the raw material of lasting family lore.
***
The Smoking Trunk
By Harry Arabian
After a week exploring Washington, D.C., our family had achieved peak tourist status. We’d seen the pandas at the National Zoo, taken the Capitol tour, and spent enough time in Smithsonian gift shops to earn honorary degrees in “Souvenir Studies.” The boys—both teenagers—declared the Air and Space Museums “the coolest places on Earth.” My wife declared the hotel laundry room “the most useful.”Packing to leave should have been easy. It wasn’t.
Somewhere between our arrival and departure, our luggage had multiplied. The rental car trunk, once roomy and accommodating, now looked like it had shrunk in the D.C. humidity. I stood over it like a general before battle, trying to fit a week’s worth of memories—and several pounds of souvenirs—into one metal compartment.
At last, I wedged in the final duffel. “That’s it,” I said proudly. “Perfect fit.”
Then came the snap. A small spark. And the delicate smell of burning insulation.
“Dad,” my older son said, “the car’s smoking.”
He was right. A thin curl of smoke rose from the trunk seam. I opened it to find the culprit: the trunk’s sensor wire, neatly sliced by the edge of my bag. The glowing copper ends fizzed and hissed.
“Everybody out! Unload!” I yelled, channeling my inner fire marshal.
In seconds, our well-packed order became chaos. Souvenirs flew in every direction. Panda mugs rolled across the pavement. The boys shouted over each other while my wife calmly lifted her tote from the pile—the one with the travel insurance papers.
“Good thing,” she said, “someone remembered to buy rental coverage.”
Within minutes, the smoke cleared, leaving behind the smell of melted plastic and the faint sound of our laughter echoing in the parking lot.
The car survived. So did the panda hat. As we reloaded everything—this time with extreme caution—I realized something: the true souvenirs of a family trip aren’t the things we buy. They’re the stories we almost set on fire.
Later, as we drove toward Ocracoke Island, the air-conditioning kicked on, carrying a faint whiff of singed plastic.
“Uh, Dad?” my younger son said.
We all looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
Some lessons, apparently, travel with you.



Book Club Discussion Questions
ReplyDeleteHumor and Perspective
How does the narrator’s humorous tone shape your reaction to the trunk mishap?
Would the story feel different if told in a more serious, dramatic voice?
Family Roles
Each family member reacts differently: the narrator with humor, the older son as “souvenir protector,” the wife with reassurance about insurance.
How do these roles reflect familiar family dynamics in times of stress? Which role do you personally identify with most?
Travel as Narrative
The story balances the grandeur of Washington, DC landmarks with the trivial-yet-memorable trunk crisis.
What does this contrast suggest about the difference between what we plan to remember on trips versus what we actually remember?
Souvenirs and Symbolism
Souvenirs are presented almost as sacred objects in this story.
What do you think this says about the relationship between memory, material things, and storytelling?
Themes of Resilience
How does humor serve as a coping mechanism in the story?
In what ways do shared mishaps on family trips strengthen bonds rather than break them?
Setting as Character
How does the contrast between the monumental setting of Washington, DC and the absurdity of the trunk accident add depth to the story?
Does the humor depend on this backdrop, or would it work in any travel context?
Broader Reflection
The narrator suggests that mishaps often become the most retold family stories.
Do you agree? Can you recall a personal travel story where an unplanned problem became the highlight in hindsight?