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.
Mom calls out a few of the “deluxe” campgrounds we stayed at, usually every third night. This one as $5.20 for crying out loud! It was a far cry from modern-day glamping, but I’m sure it provided her (and us) with some comfort, a hot shower and something in the way of a “flush” toilet.
Also note Maw’s shout-out to the AC in the car. Talk about the finer things! Turns out that in 1969, only half of cars sold in the US were equipped with air conditioning. Want to know more about air conditioning in cars? Check this.
Crossed Texas and began seeing desert in New Mexico. The air conditioner as much appreciated. Stopped at a deluxe place in Tucumcari with pool, free ice, showers, shade etc. ($5.20)
Marge Binder, June 24, 1969
Also from Woodall’s Guide is this key to amenities’ abbreviations. Good to know if you’re game for a “pit toilet” or are looking for a place that provides “wading.”
And here’s a look at the site of Coral Campsite today (in maps and the web). Appears to have gone out of business not that long ago, after reverting to its Cactus name.
I’ve long held the belief that, if you want to really know someone, travel with them. Even more so: go on a roadtrip together. Such events led to more than one breakup back in the day.
Of course, as a car- and tent-confined Family, we Binders had to coexist. Here are a few of the rules and procedures we followed, along with a few ideas from the good people at AAA.
Quiet Hour
For every hour a child stayed completely quiet, the parents would bestow 25 cents. We could use it for anything, usually candy and arcade games at the next stop. Thing is: You had to be quiet for a full hour, not 55 minutes. So as the clock ticked down to the magic moment, the boys would begin trying to sabotage each others’ progress, making faces, tickling, general intimidation. But, like I said, they were Family, so we couldn’t leave them at the next rest stop and move on.
The Pee Jar
Yes, it is what it sounds like it is. I imagine it worked because we were three boys sans modesty. It was always there, on the floor of the backseat, and when nature called we would get low and take care of business. There was an incident explained in Mom’s July 28 recollection where something bad happened to the pee jar. Boys! Amirite?
Art & Diversions
I don’t recall for certain, but I’m pretty sure Mom loaded us up with pens and paper. All three of us were budding artists (but none of us followed our bliss), so I can imagine some competitive doodling and sketching along the way. Tim was the illustrator — faces, animals, fish. Mike visualized sci-fi scenarios and architecture. I worked in long form, mixing scrawl with sketch. Like so much of this trip, the evidence is lost to the ages.
I seem to remember some “I Spy” and license plate bingo. Mom recently described some other games that I don’t recall, but they do sound plausible! Something about points for seeing cows: white cows were low scoring, black/brown better, and spotted cows were prime point sources.
Mom recently recalled that Tim would read aloud from John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley (in Search of America) and the last of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House books. We also listened to the radio in the car, whatever AM stations we could find for as long as we could keep their signal.
Travel Tips 1969 vs 2019
Here’s what AAA suggested families do for traveling with kids back in 1969, before video games, tablets and seat-back video screens. And phones, internets, etc. etc.
In my entire childhood, I never heard of any of these activities.
I was surprised recently when I came across this story from Travel Channel; the diversions they suggest for roadtripping with kids includes quite a few non-tech activities. Bravo!
Had breakfast at the Cattleman’s Cafe. Had a “tail” picnic for lunch (that’s Doug-ese for “tailgate.” Camped at Bluewater State Park in New Mexico but it was miserable cold and windy so we slept in the car.
Marge Binder, June 25, 1969
Note Mom’s amusement (nay, astonishment!) at me coining terms like “tail” instead of tailgate. What a little marketer.
I’m seeing a pattern here: Every place we stopped seemed to have abundant fishing opportunities.
Marge Binder's Epic Adventure 