Colleague here in London, a lady in her 30s, described some thought-provoking journeys for this time of year from her teenage years. Parents separated, lived with her mother's new family on one side of London, father now lived on the opposite side, about 80 miles by the M25 ring motorway. On Christmas Day it was "necessary" for her to have Christmas lunch and presents with both families. Father had to set off, drive round, pick her up, drive back, have the festivities, then return her, drop off (not allowed inside the house) and then back to his home. 320 miles all in one day. That's the distance from London to Scotland. In the days when fuel stations were closed on Christmas Day, took some planning. No drinks until the end.
Incidentally the festivities were always marred. First lunch had to be served early, undercooked, bad tempers, then into the waiting car, over the speed limit dash, second lunch extremely late, overcooked/burned/gone cold. Presents. Dark by now. Back into the car.
But her point was, she described as they went along and she looked into other cars, she picked up on the number of others doing the same. She said you could spot them. Papa driving fast, on his own. Child in the back child seat, or when a teenager, in front. Some likely doing more miles than they were.
Happy Christmas.