Road Trip

It was a 1952 Chevrolet - Dad's first new car. Unlike the fancy plastics and high strength metal alloys used in modern cars, this car was made of steel. It probably weighed more than some of those behemoths that motor across our interstate highways carrying payloads like a Miniature Schnauzer or a sack of groceries. This was before President Eisenhower used his logistical knowledge of moving troops and supplies to build the interstate highway system we take for granted. 

In about 1953 when our family, now five of us, would travel from Kansas City to eastern Illinois, the route was mostly on US 40. The terminology for this road, like the famous Route 66, was “route” but compared to most roads it was a highway.  Like most federal highways, US 40 was a narrow, two lanes wide.  Oncoming cars and trucks were separated by only a yellow line and there were places where even that demarcation disappeared. The "highways" could be distinguished from state routes or county roads by the shape of their signs and because occasionally the US Routes had small shoulders made mostly of gravel soaked in paving tar. Routes and roads through cities and towns, these were paths to distant places and to indelible memories. 

Trip planning was different then. Gameboys, Nintendo DS, iPads, or, for that matter the Sony Walkman, were years away from being invented. There were no cell phones, satellite radio (because satellites wouldn’t orbit for several more years) and the temperature in the car was controlled by how many windows were open. Auto air conditioning was mostly a wish or science fiction.

Children, however, were still children. Put three of them in the back seat of any car, trap them there for about eight hours and the pot is likely to boil over many times. So trip planning and scheduling was essential to having all members arrive alive.  The hazards of brothers battling equaled the risks of two, tank-like cars rolling toward each other at 60 mph with only inches of separation. Yes, and seat-belts were only for airplanes.

Car trips were taken at night. There are several reasons why this strategy was employed. First, the unique features of this 1952 Chevrolet. This was a two door model. Without access to a door it was more difficult for one brother to throw another one out.  Behind the back seat in the area where the sloping rear window intersected the deck over the trunk there was space enough for a boy to sleep. That left the back seat for two boys where a temporary wall (a suitcase) could separate them. Departing before about 11:00 pm was simply not done. By that hour even the most resilient boy had begun to nod.  Sleeping boys were good boys.  Most of our trips were in summer so nighttime had the added benefit of cool air pouring through. Even in humid Midwest nights, the rush of air and the hum of the tires carried the boys into sound sleep.

On those rare occasions when a trip had to be scheduled with boys awake, we played every manner of road game. We found the alphabet on signs but could only look on our side of the car and no more than one letter per sign. Sooner or later everyone was hoping to see a bar-b-que joint on our side of the road. We counted cows, one side against the other, but you lost your total every time you passed a cemetery.  Of course, Dad drove faster when the herd was on the right side of the car.  But the best was memorizing the Burma-Shave signs. 

Burma Shave advertised its products with wit and wisdom written on a sequence of roadside signs where you had to go a mile or so to get the whole message.  For instance, "The place to pass / On curves / You know / Is only at / A beauty show / Burma-Shave."  Or, "The whale / Put Jonah / Down the hatch / But coughed him up / Because he scratched / Burma-Shave." Or one more caution about passing on those narrow roads, "On curves ahead / Remember, Sonny / That rabbit's foot / Didn't save / The bunny / Burma-Shave."


Road trips for families are a pretty unique American custom.  The auto and the highway - whether two lanes wide or a modern super-highway - are the catalysts for creating memories that last for scores of years.  Every trip has its moments.  "Are we there yet?"  "Don't make me stop this car!"  "We should ask someone for directions." ... Now we text non-stop while the kids watch videos or play a video game.  Strange that with the windows closed, I can get lost remembering the smell of honeysuckle vines while laying in the back window and riding along county roads in the middle of the night.  I would stir and pull the blanket tight and touch the window while the stars and moon stayed fixed in place over our car.  Our family was all together - within the reach of an arm.


"It might require /Six decades or more / To understand / The gift one gets / On the road / And being six / -- td."