We’re loaded up and headed south on Interstate 65. Dads are in the front chatting. Our eldest daughters are in the back, debriefing from their school week. After a quick stop at the gas station for beef sticks and candy, our crew is leaving the Birmingham suburbs behind for wide open spaces.

Bailey, our host for the weekend, makes regular pilgrimages to the family farm near Greenville. There is always something to do and people to entertain. Maybe that’s why you rarely see him sitting down. When restrained to the seat of his truck, there is a story ready for every landmark along the way.

I’ve been looking forward to this little getaway. Being a father to only girls, I struggle to find the balance between what worked for me as a child and what is best for their growth. Most parents can likely relate when I say that I had a lot more freedom and space to roam as a youth. I’ve been stuck on this idea that if we don’t start introducing this generation to micro-situations where they can test their mettle a bit, we’ll be unleashing an army of unprepared kids into the real world.

So the timing of this father-daughter trip was perfect. Our pack of little ladies were all approaching ten. With no devices in sight, they simply talked in the back seat or listened in as Bailey shared sanitized versions of his own childhood exploits, which frankly put mine to shame.

As we exited and put one final city line in the rear-view mirror, a question arose from the back. “Mr. Bailey, what are we going to do this weekend?”

Lesson One: On the Job Negotiation

One part of country life that I genuinely miss is always knowing a person who can do a thing. Distance from the huddled masses encourages a sort of familial barter system where all are pretty self-sufficient but forces combined could literally rebuild the world from scratch. It takes me a week to get an electrician out, but Bailey’s “backhoe guy” is casually smoking in his Dodge Ram dually by the roadside as we ease up alongside. Drive-through job quoting as the sun sets on a Friday afternoon.

Upon surveying the area in question, a number is given which is way too high. Instead of caving to get this land cleared in a hurry, there’s surely another backhoe guy. Plus “we could always rent one and do it ourselves for half that.” Yee-haw. I wonder how this type of scene processes for a child whose father uses adhesive strips to hang things.

It’s already quite chilly out, so once our gear is unloaded, a fire is the first order of business. Although there is a house, the fire pit and pole barn that surrounds it become the epicenter of all weekend activities.

Lesson Two: Fire Starting for Beginners

My oldest is no stranger to a good fire. Like any cool suburban dad, I have a Solo Stove, which admittedly is a fun science lesson in how to burn wood as fast as possible. This custom rig before us on the farm was on a completely different scale - logically designed to hold that heat in. Colossal grates would allow a few pigs to slowly roast for special occasions each year.

But before you can make a big fire, one must begin with a small one. Cold, tiny hands did their best to overcome childproof features on the available lighters. Matches fizzled in the wind. Kindling was broken off of the wall of firewood. Eventually, their persistence, teamwork and ingenuity paid off. They basked in the warmth of achievement, only occasionally straying from the opportunity to throw another log on.

Lesson Three: Welcome to the Waffle House

If you have never been to Butler County, the hottest fashion trend is camo. Same as it has been since forever. People talk about “the rut” in whispered reverential tones while longing for the moment where they can disappear up into a tree and cross paths with a huge lusty buck.

This wasn’t my first Waffle House, so I didn’t bother to dress up. The girls, free from any critical motherly eyes, were goofily disheveled and a bit smoky smelling. It was hard to tell, though, once we were settled into our booth. The aroma of all that butter and fat had us ready to put those orders in.

While the glossy double-sided menu may not look intimidating, my nerdy friends will tell you there are approximately 1.5 million different ways to have your hashbrowns. Complicated decisions must be be made and clearly communicated above the din of a lively open kitchen. When the time came, chocolate waffles and milk were successfully ordered before our server’s patience ran out. It was a fantastically efficient breakfast of champions. I was also reminded that these kids can’t be too self-absorbed if they’ll happily walk out of a restaurant with chocolate still on their faces.

Lesson Four: Agronomy & Critters

I love when people are incredibly passionate about something they do. It can’t always be a paying gig, but don’t we all want to find that?

While deer hunting isn’t my usual jam, I do understand why people love it. I’ve spent three days making what ultimately is an Italian beef sandwich, so the idea that someone puts down hundreds of pounds of seed, months in advance, for the chance at a few deer…well that’s a labor of love. Playing the long game makes for better stories.

The establishment our truck backed up to next does not exist around our usual stomping grounds. Considering the sheer quantities and cross-section of goods, one would need ambitions of scale. The smallest bag crossing our tailgate was fifty pounds.

You want crickets? How about thousands. When they are mating, they shake rhythmically, so we all realized together that this cricket disco was truly a miniature Sodom and Gomorrah. I nearly felt compelled to buy some just to make space for the next generation that would undoubtedly be here by Christmas.

The variety of goods on offer was staggering. While Bailey stood in line for deer snacks, I used our rare cell reception to field questions about why someone would buy these things and what their uses might be.

Seasonality can largely be ignored in the world I normally occupy. I just made a blueberry cobbler in winter for crying out loud. This bustling operation in Greenville couldn’t help but carry what this time of year required. All of the patrons this Saturday morning were operating in step with what you had to be doing now, in the chill of December, to have a chance for results in the spring. I think we all needed that perspective.

Lesson Five: Firearms

As soon as I could hold a gun without falling over, one was placed on my shoulder and pointed in a safe direction. Not yet old enough to comprehend the methodology of a shotgun, it just seemed like I hit everything! Eventually, I was proficient enough with the steel to earn a rifle shooting merit badge in the Boy Scouts. But we literally moved to suburbia within weeks of that triumphant achievement.

Whether or not you consider yourself a gun enthusiast, they are legal in the United States of America. Bailey is a responsible gun owner and hunter. That’s why our collective of Dads had no issues with him setting up a controlled range so the girls could squeeze off a few rounds. Instead of a peanut gallery of tipsy uncles and a piece of trash as a target, however, their indoctrination included a detailed safety overview, shooting chair, and an array of targets set up a comfortable distance downrange.

I anticipated needing to give my oldest a pep talk. Dangerous things are not her usual jam, but I’ve heard tales of her summer camp exploits. Maybe there’s a side I hadn’t allowed to flourish.

Without hesitation, she casually settled in. Then got down to business clinically putting holes in that target. I must say I was impressed. You could see the little confidence boost it gave each girl to survey their handiwork - wrangling accuracy out of loud and forceful instruments.

Lesson Six: Off Road Vehicles

Streets can be so boring. Also safe. Everyone has a story about a guy they knew who got hurt super bad on an ATV, Motorbike, etc. And note that it’s always a guy. If you give a dude any set of wheels, he will undoubtedly have two questions to investigate. How fast can I go and how high can I jump it?

I have lived enough years to remember three wheelers bebopping around our family property. These days, commercials have to tell people not to take something if they are allergic to that thing. But back in the good ol’ days, a company could sell a heavy unstable death trap without a second thought.

The farm vehicle of today is comparatively innocuous. Known as a Mule, this thing has a full roll cage, seat belts, and costs more than some commuter vehicles. Notably, the radio also kicks ass on this model. We are bouncing through dormant fields while giggles ring out. Their learners' permits may be half a decade away, but these girls were experiencing the joys of mashing the loud pedal and taming yet another beast.

Also in the stable was an ATV. Four wheels are better than three, but these things are still heavy and super dangerous when used incorrectly. I have come off of a few in my time, but then again I am indeed a dude.

The most experienced rider was limited to a reasonable gear. Slowly but surely, trust was earned and the reins loosened. The girls took turns riding off into the distance two at a time, experiencing that unmistakable bond of putting full faith and trust in one another.

In the end, there was a near miss or two. Shouts rang out from our Dad collective on occasion, correcting a young driver who had gone astray. I love a good teachable moment, and I was in good company. Go ahead and make those mistakes in a controlled environment. It’s one thing for me to tell my kids that you only brake in a straight line. It’s another thing for them to feel the vehicle pitch sideways when they violate that rule. Nothing gets harmed except a little topsoil.

Lesson Six: Fishing

Fishing, unlike most outdoor activities, is a pretty level playing field. It used to drive my Grandfather absolutely insane that my younger sister could catch more fish than him. She wanted to be anywhere else, and made little-to-no effort to keep her line untangled, but without fail she’d just drop the worm in the water and impatiently jerk up one lunker after another.

There are skills to be acquired and mastered, however. These were no snoopy poles. Bailey had the girls rigged up with spin casters. And then to turn it up to 11, we were fishing a pond that was stocked full of mutant bass. These freaks of nature were intentionally bred to be stronger and more aggressive than the lazy bass you are used to.

You should never fish alone, so there is also a need for spacial awareness when casting your line. I don’t know about you, but my kids generally do not have their wits about them. I often lose dad points for using the tops of their heads to steer them out of harm's way. This, I’m told, is embarrassing.

Rather than micro-managing through the whipping hooks, I felt more content to focus on my own line. We got stuck a few times, but when those first two fish finally came out of the water, it was on the hooks of our little boss ladies. Then we took them to a fruitless pond down the road for a little dose of humility.

Lesson 7: Open Fire Cooking

In the fleeting hours of daylight, we gave the girls agenda space to get weird with it. They gathered assorted deer, hog and bird bones to construct a terrifying mini museum of natural history. Having mastered fire in a controlled environment, they took it upon themselves to start a baby fire at a separate location. When they composed visually stunning vegetarian snacks for deers and lightly smoked them in said fire, the girls were just showing off. And to think, they could have been on the couch watching television.

Our crew did not go willingly when departure time eventually came. Being a passenger once again seemed pedestrian to these hardened outdoorsladies. My child had rarely been so filthy. Bags of mostly clean clothes were returned to the truck bed…

Parenting is hard. The blueprint that molded me into the strange human I am cannot (and many would argue should not) be copied and pasted to my two offspring. The world is different. They are different. As soon as we think we’re figuring things out, the target moves and we are on our heels once again. One thing we forget is the world is a moving target for them too. It’s their first go at being a human. What I know for certain is that just about every kid in my part of the world could use a dose of Mr. Bailey’s Country Camp.