When we were finished travelling with the boys
we knew it had succeeded beyond our wildest dreams. I always believed the road
trip was a perfect family vacation because I had experienced it firsthand when
I was a child. It was the holiday of choice as I grew up.
These
were two week vacations and always involved a drive of epic proportions to get
there. There were three siblings in my family so a little more ingenuity was
required. The arduous, enduring drives to get there were often filled with not
so much games and amusements as actually just sleeping the scenery away. Dad
had built a wooden bench to fit over the hump on the floor of the back seat and
fill in the area between the front and back seat so we had a nice wide double
bed. That accounts for accommodations for two kids but remember I said there
were three of us so where did the third kid sleep? Well that’s a stupid
question – he slept up on the shelf in the back window of the car! We had not
yet heard of auto safety; there were no seat belts in the car and it just
hadn’t occurred to anyone that their beloved first born child might become an
instant high speed human projectile as you cruised aimlessly down America’s
highways and byways in search of the world’s biggest ball of twine.
The
first thing mom and dad did to try to keep us all in the holiday mood was make
sure an appropriate venue was selected –
where we stayed had to have at least a passing interest for the kids. It was fairly
easy in that we always stayed in one place and never moved from one location to
another once we reached our target destination. It was straightforward but it
just as easily could have backfired and been a disaster if the chosen dwelling
turned out to be a bust or the weather did not cooperate.
While
in Cape Ann, Massachusetts we stayed in a century-old home that could have been
a bed and breakfast or it might even have been a hotel, all I know is that it
must have been a century old when we were there in 1958. I guess that was the
thinking – if it’s old the kids will love it.
Fort
Lauderdale, Florida was a Christmas break destination for many in the
mid-sixties but we managed to steer clear of the crowds and always stayed at
the Jolly Roger, a pirate-themed hotel right across the road from the glorious
beach. That was not a cost saving measure, it was quite simple, in those days
there were no hotels right on the beach. The thought was that pirates would
keep them happy - and daughter Ruth, well – pirates, that will keep them happy.
The
occasional side trip was the second element aimed at keeping the kids happy but
there was precious little to choose from in the fifties and sixties so mom and
dad did what they could. Maybe it was a stop at an antique store or a shell
shop along the way but we were told it was a smuggler’s den or an old woman’s
treasure shop and there was always ice cream so we didn’t care about the real
truth.
There
was also legitimate adventure while in Fort Lauderdale; perhaps a river cruise or
a visit to an alligator farm or the monkey jungle. As lame as these things are
by today’s standards, they were fascinating to us back then and as I became an
adult I realized the reason there were only one or two of these adventures on
any given holiday was the expense.
Even
with all the efforts to entertain, the day did dawn when family travel came to
an end when I, the middle child, was about sixteen. Older brother Paul had
already bailed a few years ago because he had a job. It didn’t mean anything to
me at the time but the myriad of tips and information was being buried deep in
the back of my mind to be retrieved much later when I decided it was time to
travel with my own children.
to be continued
for
more information check the website www.thatroadtripbook.com
in
particular, The Holiday Road
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