Some LEGO trips are smooth. A quick run down the M50, a pickup, a tea, and home again before bedtime. Others, well, others turn into sagas. This Galway trip was one of those. What should have been a five-hour round journey morphed into a seven-hour odyssey filled with traffic carnage, biblical rain, puppy dog eyes, and one very overloaded car.
We set off from Dublin at 3:40pm with optimism. The boot was empty, the roof clear, the kids full of energy, and my mind on the promise of a big haul that had been held for us for over a week. But optimism is a fragile thing, and the M50 will always find a way to test it.
M50 Mayhem
If the M50 has a worst-case scenario setting, we found it. What should have been a routine run to the Celbridge turn-off took over one hour and twenty minutes. One. Hour. Twenty. Traffic wasn’t just heavy, it was absolute carnage. By the time we broke free of that concrete chokehold, patience were frayed, stomachs were rumbling, and the rain had started its own assault.
Athlone offered our first pitstop. We ducked into Camile Thai, and honestly, that chicken fried rice and those spicy crackers were the warmth we needed against the biblical downpour. It was raining so hard I swear Moses was parting the Shannon as we crossed it. On our way back through Carrick-on-Shannon, might better have been named been Carrick-in-Shannon or Carrick-under-Shannon with the amount of water around.
Galway Gridlock
Galway, we thought, would be the relief. We were wrong. That Satnav told me the truth that I didn’t want to hear, we were just 3.6km from our pickup, yet it would take 40 minutes to crawl that distance. Forty minutes! Blame the Spanish Arch, blame the medieval streets, blame the lack of a six-lane dual carriageway, but Galway traffic this evening was unforgiving.
A two-hour-and-twenty-minute trip stretched into three hours and fifty minutes. Nearly double. By the time we pulled up at the seller’s house, I was close to turning around, but a promise is a promise, and this was for LEGO.
The Haul That Waited
The seller had been kind enough to hold this haul for over a week, and the reward was worth it. A big collection of LEGO Friends, the majestic LEGO Titanic (apt, given the weather, I half expected Jack Dawson to slide off the bonnet on the way home), and some Ninjago gems. Plus, IKEA shelving units to help house it all.
So there we were: LEGO packed into the boot, an IKEA bookcase strapped to the roof. A proper road-trip silhouette. But just as I was about to leave, the seller hit me with the question:
“Are you interested in another box?” Another box? My instinct was to say no. We had what we came for, and the car was already bulging. But curiosity is a dangerous thing.
The Box of Surprises
Inside was a mish-mash of childhood nostalgia and random treasures: Goosebumps books, Mister Men (and Little Miss) stories, science experiment kits, roller skates, a skateboard, and a big puppy teddy staring up at me with eyes that said, please don’t leave me behind.
I initially declined, but as I reversed out of the driveway, the thought gnawed at me, what if I see it on DoneDeal tomorrow, gone to someone else? No regrets, I told myself. So I stopped the car, hopped out, and asked if they took Revolut (note to self: always carry more cash). They did. A quick scan, and the box was mine.
Where to put it? The boot was full, the roof was taken, so the only space left was the passenger seat. At 8pm, we finally rolled out of Galway, LEGO and shelving secured, plus an unexpected co-pilot in the form of that oversized box of books, toys, and one very smug teddy.
Pitstops and More Puppy Dog Eyes
Heading for Leitrim, we made our first stop for petrol, tea, and the inevitable bathroom break. The petrol flowed, the tea was hot, but the toilets were closed, at 8pm! A travesty.
As I paid, two little faces appeared at my side. Luke and Rose, wide-eyed, clutching tubs of Ben & Jerry’s chocolate ice cream. The puppy dog eyes got me again. “Go on then,” I laughed.
Back into the car, kids happily spooning ice cream in the back, the rain still hammering down, and a box of random childhood in the passenger seat. We promised them a bathroom stop in Carrick-on-Shannon, and then it was the final leg home.
The Sleepy Drive
By Kilbeggan Distillery, Luke was out cold asleep, his head nodding in rhythm with the wipers. By Enfield, just past the toll booth, Rose succumbed too. The car was finally quiet, save for the rain, the hum of the motorway, and the wind on an IKEA bookcase strapped to the roof.
We pulled into the driveway at 10:45pm, seven hours after we left. Luke stirred as I opened his door (thankfully, he’s nearly eight and getting heavy to carry). Rose stayed fast asleep, and I scooped her up, carried her upstairs, slipped her into pyjamas, and tucked her into bed. Luke brushed his teeth, climbed under his covers, and was asleep before his head fully hit the pillow. Night night guys, sleep well dreaming of LEGO.
A Haul Worth the Journey
As for me, I left the car packed for the night. The LEGO Titanic, the Friends sets, the Ninjago builds, the IKEA shelving, and that unexpected box of Goosebumps, Mister Men, science kits, and puppy teddies could all wait until morning.
What couldn’t wait was the memory: a family adventure that was as much about the journey as the haul. The carnage on the M50, the Camile fried rice in Athlone, the near-biblical storm, the madness of Galway’s traffic, and the sleepy faces of Luke and Rose as they gave in to exhaustion.
Trips like this aren’t just about the LEGO. They’re about the stories, the shared laughs, the “never again” moments that we’ll inevitably repeat, and the way even a miserable, rain-soaked evening can turn into something epic.
Because in the end, when Luke and Rose remember these trips, it won’t be the traffic or the rain, they’ll remember the ice cream, the box of surprise treasures, the LEGO Titanic strapped in the boot, and the way they arrived home tired but happy, long past bedtime, after another adventure for us all.
