with the wife down the Shenandoah Valley,the Blue Ridge Parkway then over the Great Smokey Mountains and back in a 94 Z/28... one of the best times in our livesMotoring Ping.
3. Three Time Zones in 30 Hours ... Morristown, NJ to Alamosa, CO. Damn near non-stop on that one. Two drivers, with alternating sleep schedule. You ain't had a real road trip until you've rolled into the Iowa 80 truck stop at 4:00 AM and been jolted out of your sleep by the sound of a rooster crowing in a cage packed in the bed of the pickup truck next to you.
2. Election Season 2016 in Trump Country ... Dallas, TX to Topeka, KS to Raleigh, NC over five days. Less than 25 miles of this trip was taken on any interstate highways. All U.S. highways and back roads. If I told you that the ratio of Trump to Clinton signs was 500 to 1 I'm probably underestimating the Trump count.
1. Driving the Trans-Canada Highway ... titled after the National Geographic book published in the early 1990s on this subject. Montreal, Quebec to Kamloops, British Columbia over the course of two weeks. Some of the best people you'll ever meet, some of the most remote stretches of road in North America, and some of the most spectacular scenery you'll ever see.
Ten years ago my daughter found out her pen pal and best friend she never met died at age 16. Flu was going through the family and when her appendix burst they though she was just sick. We lived in Michigan and the pen pal was in Georgia.
When I got home from work I asked my daughter if she wanted to attend the funeral. “I think so” she sobbed. (I had already rented a high mileage car). We deadheaded to Georgia, I taught her the fine art of sleeping in a test area.
At the funeral, we waited in a receiving line to meet her parents. I was worried that they might not know who she was. She stepped up to meet her dad and introduced herself. He stopped, sucked in his breath and wrapped his arms aroaunt my daughter. “I can’t believe you came.” Everyone in the church actually seemed to know who my daughter was.
It wasn’t a particularly fun road trip but it was deeply meaningful. My daughter is still in contact with her pen pal’s family.
Camp Lejeune, NC to Anchorage, Alaska in the summer of 1975. My first time on the Alaska Highway, as we normally would fly to and from the Lower 48. I was transferred from Camp Lejeune to MCAS El Toro and made a detour to go back home. I was driving a 1974 Chevy Vega.
I have many road trip fave’s. But two that stand out, moving to California from Kansas in 1961 on Route 66. I don’t remember everything, I was still a youngster, but I have very clear memories of certain parts of the trip which my dad confirms. Then a few years later, we returned to Kansas to visit family. The thing that sticks out in my mind, is that even though it was probably still mid-late 60’s, as a kid, I recognized many of the places in Kansas as “Americana.”
Well long story made short Back in the late 70s my twin Angie was moving to Phoenix Arizona from Los Angeles with her new a hole husband i drove the rental truck it was cheaper to drive the truck back to L.A. well on the way back the rental caught fire near Blythe well i started walking two semis pulled over they picked me up the lady trucker no it was not that kinda story they took me all the way home fed me let me get some sleep in the sleeper treated me like a king had a great time bs ing about life i knew nothing i was 19 we stayed friends for about 20 years when they were in town we always had dinner Sure had many other road trips but this one was one of my favorites
Summer 2010, 24’ box truck, Brooklyn, NY to Bemidji, MN, and onto Columbus, OH with an undesirable young male who was put on our crew at the behest of an influential adult male client that had a wildly inappropriate relationship with said undesirable (and who held lucrative upcoming projects for our operation in the balance). This wannabe Eminem-type began the trip freaking out over a potential unwanted pregnancy on his hands, with hours of panicked phone calls, who during lighter moments kept calling me “dad” in public, who let the truck run out of diesel on a side street in South Bend, who was caught smoking “K2” and thusly relieved of driving responsibilities, and who was ultimately given the GTFO treatment at a Greyhound station in Columbus, OH. I later quit, yet the undesirable was eventually and begrudgingly hired back by my ex-boss because our influential client demanded it. I don’t miss that job. But we built some pretty cool stuff.
A Ford Econoline van from 1974 to present.
with the wife down the Shenandoah Valley,the Blue Ridge Parkway then over the Great Smokey Mountains and back in a 94 Z/28... one of the best times in our livesWe went from Atlanta to Minneapolis and back in the late 80s. Highlights included breaking down after midnight on an isolated, hilly road (with my cousin in the back seat carolling “Nobody think about Deliverance!”) and wobbling into St. Louis after our one capable driver had been fourteen hours on the road. Would have been OK if the Cardinals hadn’t been playing the World Series at home that year...
We eventually found a hotel, after looking for an hour and a half. Trouble is, it was the Bates Motel. Literally. Nobody slept real well.
The next upcoming one...
This is actually a pair of road trip tails that wrap around themselves. They are, however, true.
OK, so it is January 1987, I’ve been moved by my employer to Lumberton, NC where everybody tells me it never snows. My 11 year old daughter and I drive over from Tennessee in my old Isuzu Diesel 4x4 Pup. The wife and 4 month old son will fly over the next day and we will pick them up from the airport. Stage set!
The wife gets up the next morning ... 6” of snow on the ground, more coming down. Has brother drive her to the airport sliding off the road half way there, between two massive Oak trees, across three yards and back on the road. Not a good start! At the airport is told, “Not a Problem, everything East of here is open”, gets on plane and heads for Fayetteville, NC. On approach to the runway, over the numbers ... wheels up, throttle in, head for the sky ... airport closed. Head for Charleston, WV nearest open airport. Lather, rinse, repeat ... head for Atlanta. Land there after 8 hours with an unhappy 4 month old, and having had 2 drinks spilled on her by the drunk in the next seat ... no hotel rooms! Raise enough HELL and they find a room ... no key ... out of formula ... out of diapers. Bellhop (Lord, Bless him forever) walks to all night grocer for diapers and formula.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, daughter & I wake up to beautiful snow fluries ... don’t worry, it NEVER snows in Lumberton. Drop daughter off at Bosses house and head for Fayetteville ... flurries getting heavier. Arrive at airport, snow is at 6” and growing ... wave at wife & son as they fly over heading somewhere else. Get back to house flurries have become a blizzard! Spend 3 hours on the phone trying to track down missing wife and son ... locate them in Atlanta ... room phone doesn’t work. Get her to front desk phone ... plan to fly to Savanna next day, it’s 200 miles south, just how bad can it be? We’ll pick you up there.
Next morning, 15” on the ground, I-95 is a parking lot. Use little 4x4 to take daughter back to bosses house so I can go get wife ... Oh No, says the Boss, I’ll drive you in the Company Car ... ‘86 Buick LeSaber (remember this) ... only a 3 hour trip ... that way daughter can go too. Three hours later we reach the NC/SC border (17 miles done, 183 miles to go). Freeway may not be the best place to be lets take the back roads! Three hours later we reach Orangeburg, SC ... Wife and son arrive at Savanna airport. Another hour we and finally get a call through, tell her to get a hotel room ... three hours later we arrive. Get a room, we’ll drive back tomorrow, the snow will be gone ... IT NEVER SNOWS in Lumberton.
Get up next morning, Boss not there, had medical emergency during the night and went to the hospital. Shows up 3 hours later on heavy pain meds for an absessed tooth and we head north. South Carolina is a God-Fearing country, God put the snow there and He’ll take it away (that and they own three snow plows for the entire State). Imagine, if you will, baseball sized lumps of compacted snow covering the freeway ... driving over a boulder field in BAJA Mexico comes to mind! Three hours later, we have come a whoppin’ 60 miles, hungry 4 month old, cold formula ... wait, I’m an Engineer, we’ll put a can on the intake manifold and it will heat up ... OK, maybe a sealed can of formula on a hot engine is not such a good idea, little water, little soap, it’ll come clean. How about putting one in front of the heater vent ... it is 20 degrees outside so formula gets up to, maybe, 60 degrees ... OK, hungry babies will eat anything!
Two hours later we reach Orangeburg, SC. Did I mention that we were in an ‘86 Buick LeSaber? That automobile was infamous for dropping engines and transmissions ... 5 hours of boulder field driving ... you guessed it! Keep in mind that it is now late on a Saturday afternoon ... in Orangeburg, SC. There is EXACTLY one, count em, ONE rental car available ... at the local dealership ... 20 miles away ... they close at 5:00 and, NO, they will not wait for us. Flatbed gets to the freeway, loads the car on the bed, puts the wife, daughter, and son in the truck cab leaving me and the Boss in the car, no heat, 20 degrees outside. Get to dealership with 3 minutes to spare, wife gets out of truck cab, steaming, truck driver figured baby should be kept warm so set heater at MAX for the 30 minute ride. Temp in cab is 109, temp in car is 19. Rental car is ... think GEO Metro ... shoehorn 3 adults (Boss is a large person) and 2 kids in with Diaper bag & leave everything else in Bosses car. Three hours later get home, fix LARGE drink, go to bed ... baby wants to play! I swear I will NEVER own a Buick, wife swears she will NEVER set foot on a plane again!
Got out of the Navy, August ‘75 in Charleston, SC, hung out a while and then left for home (Phoenix) in June of ‘76, 21 years old. I-95 to I-10 in Jacksonville and then due west. Driving by myself.
Picked up some heavy nighttime fog in middle of LA, dark as hell. Didn’t matter, I was going about 90-95 with 100 feet visibility ... maybe. Suddenly, out of the fog, I saw the feint outline of a vehicle ahead on the right.....state highway patrol! Cop had no time to start his car and would never catch me in the fog. He flung his door open as I passed, jumped out and with the meanest look on his face pointed his finger right at me and then quickly swung it and pointed it directly at the shoulder. I surrendered.
He was not a happy cop! I just happened to keep my car registration paper with my freshly minted DD-214 so when he asked for license and reg I got it out and he noticed the DD-214.
“You in the service?!” he said. I said: “Well, I just got out and I’m headin home.” He says: “Is that right?”.
He goes back to his car for a second and then comes back and says: “You listen to me son, I could take you to jail right now. I’m gonna cut you a break but let me tell you something, I’ve got all your information and I’ll be listening to my radio all night and if I hear about you getting stopped again you WILL go to jail, you understand me?!”. I say: “Yes sir!”.... Whew! The South in the ‘70s was cool!
Then I get into Orange, TX at the LA/TX border. Hit Houston where I gassed up for 44 cents a gallon. That is the lowest I have paid for gas since that date to today. (Translates to about $1.90 a gallon now). Over 42 years ago!
Picked up at hitch hiker outside of San Antonio. Normal enough lookin Mexican dude, he talked a lot. I let him drive for 3 hours or so. Then, on the radio, I hear about 5 prisoners that had escaped from the TX state prison the day before, still on the loose. My hitchhiker is telling me what a good guy he is and won’t cause me any trouble, etc. Says it a little too much. When I picked him up he said he wanted to go to El Paso. Right on my way. We drive across most barren, unpopulated land I’ve ever seen between S.A and Fort Stockton. Late evening, dust storm blowing. Never seen so much land.
Ok, we get to Fort Stockton...about the only civilization between S.A and E.P. in those days...and by civilization I mean more than nothing! We get something to eat and rest up for a half hour. when its time to hit the road again my hitchhiker tells me he’s changed his mind and wants me to drop him off at some junction outside of “town”. Says he just remembered he’s got some relatives out the other way from EP and he decided to go there. I’m thinking back to the radio news about the escaped prisoners. I say: “Oh, ok.”
I drop him off and say goodbye. I lived to tell about it.
Now on to E.P. by myself. Makin great time. Between Ft. Stockton and E.P. there is, or was, also NOTHING! Nobody cares how fast you go. Now the NM/TX border, I swear my odometer said I put on 900 miles just in Texas! Big state!! Now Las Cruces, now the NM/AZ border, next the lights of Tucson. I’m beat, I’m draggin ass real bad, still 110 miles to go. 2 hours tops. It’s about 8:30pm local time. Too short a distance to quit, gotta press on...Casa Grande to my left, 60 miles to go, can barely keep eyes open. Finally, the outskirts of Phoenix! I turn right, off towards Mesa.
I roll up to the old homestead, mark the mileage and the time: 2314 miles in 59 1/2 hours. I drove all but about 3 hours. I think I slept once for 3 hours or so and took a couple 1/2 hour breaks. I was a superman at 21!
Summer of ’73, just graduating high school in Southern California. The trip to Canada camping was planned for a year. 3 weeks with my best friend and anticipation that lasted a lifetime. The first stop for gas somewhere north of Hearst’s Castle, we were washing the windows. Some grizzled gas station attendant came out and ripped the paper towels out of my hand, cussed me out for taking too many. Walked away huffin’ & puffin’ something about long hairs. We stuffed as many Oreo cookies in our mouth as possible “ start the engine, ready?!” Decorated the gas pump pretty fair with that Nabisco treat, with him chasing after us. The old fool.
In our haste we made a wrong turn. Our venture to the safety of the freeway brought us to a dead end. There was no way there without passing the gas station again. We stopped laughing. In an old VW with the torque installed by Parker Brothers we made our move. He’s running to meet us wielding a wrench half the length of his arm. He unloads as we’re making a sharp turn. It hits the ground bounces up and hits the side with a pretty good dent. A souvenir from youth. And we laughed again and often.
Well, we had a few memorable trips, and I can’t really say it’s a favorite, but certainly memorable. I was about 13. We had originally planned a 4- week trip to the Seattle World’s fair, and then on to Alaska, but had to shorten that and wound up revisiting Yellowstone.
All along the way we met people when camping out that were on their way to Seattle. Often we would be camping out at a campground with the same people and sat around the bonfires sipping cocoa or soda pop and listening to music.
We were in an 50s model Oldsmobile with a small travel trailer. Prior trips used a teardrop trailer. My Mom, Dad, divorced sister, and her 3 kids - one in diapers and one in training pants were all traveling/camping, so we rented a trailer-teardrop wouldn’t have been as good for that many people. Wolverine Mountain was a popular song that played frequently on the radio.
Outside of Cody, Wyoming, we had to stop due to a hailstorm with softball size hail, and the roads were too slick. We unhitched the trailer at the campsite and went back to town to get some chains.
When we got back we found that we were locked out of the trailer - sister decided she needed to take a bath in privacy and warmth - used the trailer’s oven for heat instead of using the crappy cold bath room shower of the campground.
We actually had to sweep about a foot of accumulation off the picnic table and benches before we could use it. It was odd weather to me as it was the end of June, but lucky we did have warm clothes with us.
However, one of my most memorable experiences happened about 6 years earlier in Yellowstone. I had gone to the restroom, and when I opened the door to leave, was looking directly at a bear about one foot away. Screamed and slammed the door in the bear’s face.
Finally, parents got to wondering why I hadn’t returned, and walked closer to the facility, hollering my name. I hollered back and told them there was a bear snuffling around the door, and I couldn’t leave.
A bunch of campers got pots and pans and started beating on them making a lot of noise and moving slowly towards the facility. Eventually, the bear took off.
We took a camping vacation every year when I was a kid. We also went to the lakes/fishing holes of S.West Mo. most weekends. Sometimes went to Bennett Springs, or Cassville for the trout fishing.
Most weekends, we went to Forsythe or Rockaway Beach - that was before Silver Dollar City and Branson. The riot at Rockaway combined with competition from Branson pretty much ended that resort. They never recovered.
Back when I was 19 years old, I worked at a gun shop in Fostoria Ohio and we traveled all over the eastern half of the US working half a dozen gun shows in 1975. It was quite a trip, first one was in Shreveport in Febuary. Went from 30 degrees to 85... Did I mention the humidity? Phew! And 28 hours straight through.
Crossed Washington state through majestic scenery, the Idaho panhandle, and the western mountains of Montana. The couple in the MGB with no top needed breaks from sun and wind burn every 200 miles or so. Hit the flat lands of Montana.
Growing up in the east coast I had never seen nor imagined so much flat country, just fields and sky. Traffic was almost non existent. We could have parked in the middle of the road and had a leisurely picnic without disruption. Any approaching traffic could be seen from miles away. My turn driving the MGB...weird sense of not perceiving speed, 60,70,80 miles an hour were all the same in the unchanging landscape. Not even telephone or power lines for long stretches. Hypnotic, had to keep scanning side to side and talking to my buddy and checking the rear view mirrors.
Stopped for lunch at some tiny cross roads collection of a gas station, general store and a bar/restaurant. Had actual raised wooden sidewalks. Well hell, this was the west of the movies. Cowboys with guns. All of us had hair no longer than just brushing our collars, if that, regular jeans and buttoned shirts, a presentable group any where. So we entered the restaurant which was in the front and divided by a wall from the bar area but it had a fairly wide opening connecting the two.
Well we had a big round table and being the place had no wait service grabbed a few menus from the counter guy. While we were getting comfortable and using the facilities a drunken Indian with, swear to God, two black velvet paintings of Elvis, entered and started moving towards us. The counter guy came out and frog marched the Indian with a few salty remarks about having been warned before.
All this while two young fellas at the closest table to the bar entry were giving us squinty once overs. Guess they were to young for adult beverages and resented that fact. After passable cheeseburgers and fries, we had coffee and planned our next leg with an eye towards maybe something interesting ahead. Not for miles and miles and miles. Set out for the next run.
Hours later, did I mention how big Montana is, we came to Chester. Back then a town of about 1100 folks, a few restaurants, 5 or 6 beauty parlors or so it seemed, and grain elevators the dominated Chesters skyline. Nothing else higher than two stories. Flat...turn 360 degrees and the horizon stayed dead level with a hint of mountains way way in the hazy distances as tiny bumps. Found a place for dinner. Family type restaurant. We all needed to make calls home and took turns at the weirdest telephone. Wall mounted with a big sea scallop shell hood thing in an opalescent finish, kind of like an oil slick on the pale pink hood. Ma Bell's strange market research that didn't travel well outside of Las Vegas.
Well dinner was fairly good and evening was fast approaching we thought we'd look for lodging. Bad news the MGB had traveled only a few hundred yards before we had tonpull into a giant parking lot at a food store. Engine overheated from the long leg and never really cooled off. Artist and his gal were driven by the med student to the local garage while my Bell labs buddy and I sat in the inert sports carL No luck for the MGB, nearest place for possible tow and service was Great Falls. My buddy and I settled down in the MGB for a long wait. Pole lights went on and out of nowhere thousands, tens of thousands of insects zoomed in on the two light poles. There wasn't a single tree or bush for them to land on so they hit the dirt. Another surreal vision being surrounded on all sides by this quivering pavement. That was just the beginning of weird that night.
With the dead car we had no radio we took turns snoozing off and on. Saw some headlights approaching us, a pickup truck with a bunch of kids in the back, they slowed down to a crawl passing us. About half a mile down the road then made a u-turn and headed back our way, slowly circled the car, with NJ tags, with the oldest by shouting, “ Hey maw, look at the hippies!”
Ok, remember I mentioned Easy Rider, well an uneasy feeling came upon us. Here we were, two strangers sitting in a parked foreign car by God, with duffel bags and a tent strapped to the tiny truck. They must have had a CB because within a few minutes we had a few more truck visitations along with catcalls. Sport for the locals. A while later two police cars pulled in. Sheriff or what not slowly exited the car with his hand on his pistol as did his deputy on the the other side of us. Approached within ten feet and started questioning us. Who were we, where did we come from and where were we going. Told him all that and he comes back with, “ So you all just picked up and started running all over the country carefree and shit, huh?” Well that straightened us right up and got us to thinking what the hell is going on?
And then he asked for licenses and registration. License we had, nada on the registration. So now he's really suspicious. Asked me what I knew about Joplin. Not being smart mouthed, just tired, I said the only Joplin I knew of was Janis Joplin. Suspicions confirmed, he had two GD hippies both wearing glasses running around in his town with a possible stolen vehicle and up to God knows what. Damn, felt like I should be singing “Proud to Be an Okie from Muskokee”.
Out of the vee-hickle and slowly start unpacking the back of the car. At this point we had two guns on us. Well things looked pretty bad just then but then they got worse. We unpacked the duffels as we were commanded, and out come the girlie things belonging to my friends petite gal pal. Not only were we car thieving hippies gallivanting about the country, we were also degenerates and maybe even kidnappers or rapists.
“Uh huh, sure this little gal went to Great Falls with her boyfriend along with some guy from Minnesota and left you two with this broke down foreign piece of crap”.
My life was flashing before my eyes when there was some radio chatter from the cruiser. At this point we were sitting with our backs to the car, hands laced behind our heads as the the deputy searched the rest of the car, with us hoping the artist buddy didn't have any weed stashed there.
After a bit a State Trooper, guessing at that, pulls up and tells the sheriff the two burglars from Joplin had been caught, and oh, by the way Great Falls confirmed that our friends had asked the local PD about an all night tow service to Chester.
We did finally get the hell out of Chester, feeling there could be a country western song about all this. Uneasy Rider indeed.