Road trip follies
When the rains came again, we decided to keep our cover story about backyard vacations for our July issue, despite the devastating impact of another round of record-breaking flooding. Last August when the floods hit, we were a week away from printing and we ripped up the planned cover and started over with the flood coverage. This time, we were three weeks away from printing, and I knew that by the time our July issue hit the streets, most people would have had their share of flood coverage. One woman, from Readstown, had had more than her share.
“If you have one word about the flood on your cover, I won’t pick it up,” she said. Clear enough.
But we know that people will be dealing with the damage from the floods for a long time to come. We wish people well in that recovery and hope that we can all find the resources and energy to help each other back on the path to whole homes, businesses, and lives again.
This issue we focused on road trips that are light on the gas budget. When I was a kid, my family would pile into the brown (or green) station wagon and head up north to Grandma and Grandpa’s house in Minnesota.
We were starting from the suburbs of Chicago and we had two-lane highways the whole way. This was back when kids didn’t wear seat belts, but instead marked out their territory in the flatbed back of the wagon. With five of us kids, this was never an uncomplicated task.
I’m sure we bickered and complained and drove my parents crazy. My father, never the one with the longest fuse, was forever threatening to pull over and give us something to cry about. Occasionally, he really did.
Even with those times, though, I have mostly fond memories of our road trips. Dad would whistle or sing to cheesy songs on the radio and we’d amuse ourselves. We’d play the license plate game, trying to find as many of the 50 states as you could.
It’s startling, now, to think about how extensive our lists were. People must have driven more long distances than they do now. We also played the alphabet game and, no, you couldn’t use license plate letters (too easy) and you couldn’t use anything inside the car.
Sometimes I remember driving for what seemed like hours waiting for a V. We also had those cool square bingo cards with the green cellophane sliding panels that you got to close when you saw the duck or the gas station, or the kid on the bike.
One year, I remember, my mom made the five kids a pact: She would stop and let us get a treat at every single Dairy Queen that we passed on our two-week trip. This was in the 1970’s, when Dairy Queen wasn’t as common as it is now. We were all not only thrilled, but on the lookout for the streets that Mom should drive down. I swear to you that my family invented the Mr. Misty Float that summer.
Why couldn’t they put vanilla ice cream in my cherry Mr. Misty like we asked them to?
Turns out they could. Now they call it an Artic Blast, but really, Mr. Misty worked for me.
Funny thing, though, as we neared the end of the two week trips, one of us kids would spy a Dairy Queen and we’d all pretend we didn’t see it, or ask my mom to go the other way. Clever woman, my mother. I don’t know that I’ve had another cherry Mr. Misty float since.
Here’s hoping the ice cream is cold and the wind is at your back. And let us know if you find some place new in your summer exploring.
