54 years ago, my Mom loaded her three sons into our brand-new Chevy station wagon and lit out from Virginia to California to Michigan and back. Maw called it 62 days under canvas.
A few summers back, I put together this blog to mark the 50th anniversary. I’d intended it to be nostalgic. Now that the world is where it is, this has taken on all-new significance — the great outdoors, exploring new cultures, lots of personal interaction. Nostalgic indeed.
It’s is a day-by-day recounting of the nine week trip, including excerpts from Maw’s diary (with permission), old-timey paper maps and AAA tour books purchased on Ebay, as well as photos and impressions of those who were transported and transformed.
I asked her, as part of this exercise, why did she do it. Simply, “I wanted to go to California.” And so she and her boys did.
Maw passed away three years ago, but thanks to the internet–and my heart–her spirit lives on.
Note: This is NOT a new road trip. It is a recounting of the one that happened 50 years ago.
In the days leading up to June 16, and the official launch, Mom offered very little insight or anticipation about the trip. Her diary lists the mundane errands and everyday tasks. Mike and Tim finished school, she visited the dentist, hosted a neighbor for coffee.
She also mentions fighting “with Chevy” and “fought with Chevrolet,” I suppose about repairs and upgrades needed for the relatively new station wagon that would carry us across country. It would also serve as sanctuary during especially bad storms at night.
On the 13th and 14th, Maw was concise and repetitive: “Hot. Organized all day…etc. etc.”
No where in here does one get the impression that Mom was concerned or excited about the nine weeks that lay ahead.
Throughout this blog you will find photos whose origin are in question but that also bolster the narrative in an authentic way. That’s me, my brother Mike and the Chevy, along with some cargo. I cannot confirm it has anything to do with this trip.
On the 15th, she covers Father’s Day and the meal she cooked. Her writing ends with, “Loaded.”
Finished loading. Started about nine. Had lunch in Bedford, PA. Reached New Concord, Ohio campground about 5. Tim fished. Mike and Doug swam. Cooked supper. Cold and damp.
Marge Binder, June 16, 1969
And…we’re off! 357 miles was a long one; Mom aimed for 300 on average. Other than that, this seems like a typical roadtrip day: drive, eat, camp, fish, swim, eat. But don’t be lulled into routine just yet. No snakes have been captured, pee jars toppled or poison ivy suffered. And Abe Lincoln is still dead.
We’ve only just begun!
(Check out Maw’s reflection!)
Just occurred to me that this anniversary starts on Father’s Day in 2019. And Dad will be featured in the narrative in a few weeks, when we meet up with him in California for the west coast swing. But for now. it’s all about Mom!
Wet tarp gave us trouble again. Got a 10AM start and stopped for breakfast. Reached the Whitneys in Cincinnati about 2 and talked til 7. Had a lot of trouble getting the tent up at Conway’s party barn. Finally the owner helped us. Rained in the night.
Marge Binder, June 17, 1969
I found this ad (below) in the 1969 Woodall’s Guide. Sounds idyllic and about as well-equipped for the times as we’ll see anywhere on this trip. I didn’t realize until now that we missed out on square dancing, but I’m sure we made the most of the flush toilets.
I know Maw was doing her best with the tent, but I imagine we three boys were just kind of standing around waiting for dinner. I suppose Tim pitched in. Also nice to know that the owner was willing to help out. Near as I can tell, Conaway’s no longer exists. Sounds like a nice place and nice people.
I’ve always been fascinated by the interstate highway system — the scale of the vision, the resolve to get it done, the fact that it did get done. I actually have a favorite interstate: the beautiful and elegantly contoured I-280 from San Jose to San Francisco. Fun fact: It wasn’t near complete in 1969.
Another fun fact: 15 miles of my commute on the lovely I-680 in the east bay is now under panic-inducing construction, providing a magical reminder that the system will never truly be done. My tax dollars at work. Indeed! But I digress.
As you probably know, President Eisenhower gets credit for thinking big and delivering in the 50s (though the concept arose in the 30s). By then, the automobile was ubiquitous, and the timely combination with wider, smoother, longer roads made Americans truly mobile. Here’s a new book out about the history (and future) of motoring across this great big land of ours.
And of course, all of this was romanticized by our friends at Chevy. Cue Dinah Shore!
See the USA in your Chevrolet America is asking you to call Drive your Chevrolet through the USA America’s the greatest land of all On a highway, or a road along the levee Performance is sweeter Nothing can beat her Life is completer in a Chevy So make a date today to see the USA
And this next spot from 1972 was practically inspired by Marge Binder’s Epic Adventure but with more…er, Native Americans.
Most of the interstate network was completed by the time of our trip, but there were still big stretches through the midwest and northwest that were connected by older highways and blacktop, including the famed Route 66. And, of course, the interstates weren’t yet teeming with services like fast food malls, motels and major travel centers.
Here’s a great site for satisfying your inner highway geek, including addressing a few myths about the program.
Started about 10 again. Had breakfast “out” but then a tailgate picnic for lunch. Went through a lot of rain in Indiana. Stopped at Bauer’s Bonanza in Smithboro, IL about 5 and swam & fished and cooked out. Cleared and was lovely evening. Called Jim and Momma.
Driver, cook, nightly construction supervisor, navigator, personal shopper, cruise director, protector, provider, saint, miracle worker. And it was all her idea!
I asked her recently: Why? Her answer: “I wanted to go to California, and this is what I had to do to get there.”
Dad, Pop
Pop hopped a flight to LA to meet up with the rest of the family for a few weeks of our west coast swing. As Mom explains, he simply couldn’t take the whole summer off. Dad was an avid and talented photographer, so his time on the road is better documented that other times. Alas, there is not a rich photographic record of the trip.
Tim, Timbo.
Age 15. The eldest brother. Tim was, dare I say, an obsessive fisherman, and I learned recently from Maw that she selected campgrounds based on access to fishing. Enabler!
He came through in spades! More than thirty documented fishing expeditions in 62 days. But I don’t think we (or, I) used them for sustenance.
Mike, Miko.
Age 8. In her diary, Mom sometimes refers to Mike and me as “the little ones.” Um, okay. It does appear that we were paired most of the time for swimming and gofer-ing. And I guess we were little. So, whatever. Mike required weekly allergy shots in whatever town or crossroads we happened to find ourselves, events Mom records religiously in her diary.
Doug. Age 4. Cute as a friggin’ button! Otherwise mostly dead weight.
I provided some full-sensory comic relief in the form of car sickness, getting lost and upending pee jars. You are welcome.
The Tent. No frills, unless you count the smell of raw, musty nature. To this day I remember the sensation of rain and storms on the other side of that thin piece of canvas. LOVED IT.
The Chevy Kingswood. Mom and Dad purchased a brand new station wagon for the trip. On stormy nights it also served as our refuge. Behind this we pulled a trailer that carried the tent, stove, chuck box and more.
Mom’s Diary. My bible for reconstructing the places, faces and times we had. Thanks to Mom for keeping it, and thanks to Mom for letting us share it here.
Time change helped getting us up early. Showered and washed my hair. Reached the Arnolds about noon, had lunch and the boys played until about 4. (Mike’s shot) Got to the Meramac State Park and set up. The boys played in the river. Exhausted.
America’s “main street” Route 66 was still thriving in 1969, but it was slowly being paved over by I-40. I don’t really remember it from our trip, but I’ve been told that, much like Marilyn Monroe, it’s reputation has been inflated and romanticized beyond recognition. Even so, you can still enjoy some of the kitsch the next time you choose to drive across the country.
And you can forever enjoy the stylings of Nat King Cole.
Road Tripping: By the Numbers
Here’s what happened each day along the way, according to Mom’s diary. I have a feeling there was even more swimming and fishing, medical issues and maintenance on the car and tent. But Maw is not one to kvetch.
Tim caught a nice mess of crappies and cleaned them before we left. Drove through Missouri. Had a tailgate picnic around Springfield. Set up for the weekend on Grand Lake, the Lake of the Cherokees, near Grove, Oklahoma.
Marge Binder, June 20, 1969
You can check out the latest from Grand Lake here.
Did the washing. Grove has 10-cent double dip ice cream cones. Windy. The sky turned green about noon and it blew down the tent. Had to get a pole fixed. The boys swam. Barbecued chicken and made s’mores.
Marge Binder, June 21, 1969
This day I do remember. The tent was not small or lightweight, so it was quite a violent sight when it blew apart. We were still in the first week of this trip so I’m impressed (and inspired) that Maw kept moving west, seemingly undaunted.
And I love that Maw chose to chronicle the 10-cent double dips in Grove; it’s amazing what discount ice cream can do to a person’s disposition.
This graphical piece from the Washington Post is pretty spectacular. It doesn’t stretch as far back as the 60s, but you can see how increasingly robust are the nation’s extreme weather events. Looking back, I’m amazed that we didn’t encounter more instances of violent weather crossing the midwest. (These days it seems like lightning, tornados and flooding are a daily occurrence, at least according to our nation’s Doppler-armed and sensationalized meteorologists.)
Hot and windy. Slept in the car because storms were all around us but none hit here. Had breakfast at Perry’s in Grove. Washed the car, trailer and tent. The boys swam a long time. Tim caught some channel catfish.
Marge Binder, June 22, 1969
There are a number of references Mom makes in her diary to businesses that no longer exist, not even on the internet.
In putting together this blog series, I reached out to various chambers of commerce and historical societies in places like Grove, OK and Lomita, CA without much luck. I also scoured Pinterest sites for like-minded amateur historians. That’s been fun but largely fruitless. And to those who assumed that this project involved me physically retracing the steps and stops of the 1969 journey I say: I’m obsessive to learn more, but not that obsessive.
If you’re interested to learn more about Grove, OK in the 21st Century, click here. And enjoy this postcard that captures Grove’s colorful history.
Packed up. Breakfasted at Perry’s again. Drove through Oklahoma, around Tulsa and Oklahoma City. We were grateful for the air conditioning. Set up at Foss Reservoir State Park in Okla. Great waves in the lake.
Marge Binder, June 23, 1969
Life at the campsite. Car and tent surrounding the picnic table with Mom’s nice table cloth, the camp stove, chuck box and cooler. And nature in every direction.
From Maw’s diary, you can see that the typical travel day involved packing up, driving, eating, arriving, putting up tent, swimming, fishing and eating. I asked her recently what would happen after that, between dinner and bedtime. She told me that the three boys would do everything to stay awake and active, while she just wanted to sleep: “I was so exhausted every night, but you guys just wanted to play.”
Conversely, in the morning, we’d resist Mom’s efforts to get us up and at ’em. Mom shared something else that I didn’t remember: We would inflate air mattresses (using the car’s cigarette lighter) and lay our sleeping bags on top. By morning, though, they were “flat as pancakes,” according to Mom, and we were feeling every contour of the rocks and needles underneath.
Since this 1969 trip I have experienced quite a few other sleeping situations while traveling. Of note: the Heavenly Bed line of mattresses, available exclusively at Westin Hotels worldwide and for purchase here.
Marge Binder's Epic Adventure 