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The weeks before we left, there were sparks of excitement flickering through the house. It was the same scene every year as our family prepared for our extended summer camping trip. Dad loved to explore national parks especially in the western United States and he enjoyed playing teacher for the summer.
Mother readied the camera, batteries, film; washed the tin camping dishes, got the gas for the stove, and bought food that never tasted good at the home dinner table but somehow was scrumptious over a campfire. Marshmallows were never in the home pantry, but they found their way to a crispy charcoal burn over the summer fires. Jeff repaired the tents, patched air mattresses, fixed the latch on the food chest, changed the car's oil, checked the air pressure in the tires. Harry dug through the map drawer to find the road maps, and AAA guide book for dad's trip planning. The maps that were dog eared and split at the folds needed to be scotched taped together. Brad and I scattered the camping equipment on the living room floor to inventory and sort out what we needed to buy at the Army-Navy store. The house was chaotic with anticipation. We could smell the camp fires, spiced with adventure as the days counted down to the departure date.
Dad had designed his own tents and had them custom made at the Fox Tent and Awning company. They were framed with aluminum hoops that were reminiscent in shape of the old covered wagons but they were collapsible to fold into a package of eight inches high by five feet wide by six feet long. The dimensions were prescribed by fitting two inflated air mattresses side by side made up with sheets, blankets and pillows. The frames were covered with heavy tan canvas and secured on two car top carriers with a plywood floor. Two of these tents were fitted end to end on top of our Dodge station wagon. There was an over hang on each end of the car, so at night the sleepers had their heads toward the center and their less weighty feet on the overhang. Under no circumstances were we to sit or wrestle on the over hang portion. Amazingly they never shifted after anchored with the carrier's suction cups and stabilizing straps. Two people could fit in each tent and two kids could fit in the back of the station wagon with its seat folded down. The camping equipment, food and clothes all fit like a 100 piece jig-saw puzzle in the front seat and foot wells when the camp was set up. It was not only efficient in use of space but dad assigned chores for each of us kids such that we could park, set up and be in bed in pajamas within 6 minutes, including water set beside the stove for breakfast tea. Even after a long all day drive when the bickering between four siblings could get rambunctious inside the small four walls of a station wagon, we prided ourselves in springing to action by timing our camp set up. With our explosive stop-watch entry to a campground, our focus and scurrying often brought attention from our neighboring more tranquil campers not to mention our curious tent style.
One memorable night comes to mind when we were very thankful that we were safely self contained inside and on top of our car. We were camped at Crater Lake Oregon and had been warned by other campers that bears were foraging for garbage and left over food at night. We buried our morning bacon in a plastic bag in a snow bank and wedged our food chest between our car tire and a log. About midnight, mother woke up to witness a mother bear and her two cubs, gooey with honey dripping from paws to mouth, after manipulating the food chest that they had managed to pry loose, rolling it over an over until it opened. Mother woke us up to watch. We all had flashlights giving the bears spotlights to fulfill their carnival-like drama. We had a mess to clean up in the morning.
Our travel days were spent driving to one of dad's predetermined tourist attractions. It could be a water fall, the Grand Canyon, a Hopi pow-wow, Pike's Peak. >From a kid's perspective, it was an almost endless list. The distances could be very very long drives. We played car games. Who could find all 48 states license plates on the cars that passed us. Who could guess what make car was approaching by recognizing its grill before you could read the brand name. Who could make up a funnier animal singing Ol' MacDonald Had a Farm. Who spied a speck of green that the others had to guess where it was. Who could find the alphabet in the first letter of words on billboard signs. Who could think of a word that started with the last letter of the last word that the person before you used, and, put it into a story. We played Hang Man, Sink the Battleship, Remember what Johnny took to camp as each person added a new item. But, it inevitably, eventually, reduced to playing the old stand-by game: "hey mom, he touched me first, tell him to get on his side of the seat". Dad would intervene at the breaking point and challenge us to whoever could close their eyes and mouth the longest would get a candy bar. So much for enjoying the scenery on the road trip.
We zig-zagged the country to include as much as possible that AAA described in their guide book. My dad was not a religious man but he held a pretty straight discipline with his AAA guide book. When we crossed the border of a state, dad would read AAA's description of that state: what industry it was known for, what was it's state capitol, state flower, state bird, whether it was a republican or democratic state, who were the famous people born there, what were the main tourist attractions. When we left that state, he would quiz us on the pertinent details. I being more of a people watcher and relationship observer, never won the candy bar prize as the trivial expert. My brother Harry always won which I guess prepared him for the Phi Beta Kappa prize he later won in college. It all just floated over my head. I liked to meet campers in the campgrounds, but we rarely stayed in one place long enough for friendship bonds. As I look back to those days, it impresses me how differently people see and appreciate the same experience. We can laugh at the same childhood situations and memories but we each have channeled those common experiences into our own version of who we have become.