[Vigilanteman]

There were six of us kids in a 1956 Chevy Nomad after the baby of the family was born in 1962. The back seats were always folded down. The driver (usually Dad) and two lucky kids (usually my older brothers) would sit in front. The other five of us would sit on the floor in the back. When Mom wasn't trying to get some shut-eye to spell off Dad, she was usually making bologna sandwiches and passing them around.

Sometimes, we would get a slice of cheese with time. Sometimes, tomatoes (if they were in season), and sometimes mustard. But usually only bologna and mayo.

Drinks? Dad had one of those gallon jugs we put in the freezer the night before and would pass around. Mom would pour a sippy cup for the little kids, but by the time you were six or seven, you drank straight from the jug.

[polymuser]

My dad did engine dinners sometime. Beef, potatoes, onions & carrots in many wraps of foil, tucked on top of the engine, when we did the hours-long drives up north (e-way was still being built, so two-lane state roads to get there).

We’d start smelling it after a couple hours.

[Arkansas Tider]

The gallon jug thing cracked me up, we each had a mason jar, koolaid for the kids and sweet tea for mom and dad. Always stopped at those rural highway picnic areas which consisted of a couple of cement tables and benches and no facilities.