Summers on Wheels: part one

Many of our summer vacations were spent in the family car. My Dad always had a well-planned itinerary in mind. He would pack my Mom and the 3, 4, and then 5 kids in the car – no seat belts or A/C in those days – and off we’d go for two weeks of adventure. It’s funny the memories that stick. Like the accident we had in Erie, PA when a car’s brakes failed and plowed into us at an intersection. Or the trip to Cleveland, OH that resulted in a pen pal relationship with one of my distant Hungarian cousins. Or meeting another Hungarian cousin, Tibi, a gifted commercial artist in Ottawa, Canada.

We took a long trip one year to St. Petersburg, FL to visit my Aunt Helen; I can still taste those Hungarian crepes she made. On the way, we stopped at cabins or the early version of motels. I remember one evening in the 1950’s on the lawn of a South Carolina motel. I was listening to a conversation about segregation that my Dad and the motel owner were having. His argument for “white only” motels was that integrated motels would lead to interracial marriage. He pointed at me – “You wouldn’t want your little girl to marry a colored boy!” And at my tender age, I just couldn’t understand how a motel that welcomed all races could lead to my marriage; I couldn’t even imagine getting married! Later I noticed the separate hospital entrances and water fountains – “Whites only”. It made an impression and seemed strange, sad to me.

Those trips were so educational. Geography comes alive when you actually set foot in a capital city. My love of maps began on those trips. Having grown up in New York City, the other “big” cities of states paled in comparison. “This is a city?” was my reaction. But I discovered that each city was unique – like Charleston, SC so beautiful and clean, and Lexington, KY with its wonderful horse farms. When we finally made it to Florida, after several nights in sweltering cabins, I was so looking forward to a swim in the Gulf of Mexico. To my disappointment, it was not refreshing at all – more like soaking in a hot tub! Another disappointment – I so wanted to see the legendary Fountain of Youth that led Ponce de Leon to St. Augustine, FL. When we arrived, it cost too much money for the whole family to visit, so we just stared at the gates. I made up for this with my credit cards when I took my grown up vacations many years later.

At some point during every summer car vacation, we kids would get on Dad’s nerves (how many games of license plates can you play!) and he would scream at us, threaten beatings when he stopped the car, and vow “No more vacations!” Lucky for us, it never came to pass. And the next year, we’d be off on another adventure.