Get in, Sit down and Shut up

Every Sunday, almost without fail, my Dad would pile the family into the car and take us for a long drive to nowhere in particular. He just thought it was essential to get us out of the house.

Mind you; this was back in the days of no technology. We didn’t have cell phones, iPads or video games. And DVDs were unheard of! We had to be content with Cow Poker or License Plate Search to keep us busy. For long trips, we usually brought along simple board games that had all the pieces tied to the board, so they didn’t get lost in the car.

This was also during the years that smoking was socially acceptable anywhere and everywhere. My Dad moved from a delightful pipe to a very nasty cigar. And he smoked them in the car. With the windows closed. I hated the cigar trips.

During the short rides, we’d end up at the Salvation Army in Washington, DC or at a new housing development with model homes open for our inspection. I’m still not sure which adventure I enjoyed more.

I have been in love with books ever since I could walk. My parents both loved books, so I came by the passion honestly. The Salvation Army was not in a good part of town, but I was never scared because I was with my Dad. I always got to pick out at least one or two books, and he’d add them to his pile of pulp magazines or Big Little Books that he found and back on the road we’d go.

Model homes were fantastic because I always felt like a Peeping Tom, peering into the lives of these perfect people, where nothing was dusty, the furniture was perfect and the wood floors shone brightly. The reverence with which we’d walk through these houses, comparing them to our home, was incomparable.

During the summers, we’d pack up the car and head to upstate New York, to a little town called Oneonta. My Dad’s parents owned a dairy farm there, just off Route 7. There was no freeway back then, so my brother and I always looked forward to counting the villages in New York, once we passed through Pennsylvania.

There were seven of them. Nineveh, Afton, Bainbridge, Sidney, Unadilla, Otego and Oneonta. If you ever have a chance to be up in the area, get off the freeway and go through these villages. I don’t think they’ve changed much in 30 years. But make sure you adhere to the speed limit because they WILL ticket you for speeding!

The mantra of the trip was always “Are we there yet?” as miles of roadway continued to roll under the tires and trees and signs flew by as our 1968 2-door red Camaro covered another mile. The trip took eight hours when I was a kid, coming from Virginia to Oneonta, so riding in the back of that car wasn’t much fun.

Looking back at those days, the only thing I regret is that I didn’t enjoy it as much as I should have. My Dad is gone now but what I wouldn’t give to get in the car, sit down, shut up and enjoy the ride with my parents. Cigar smoke and all.