As we wrap up yet another very quick and hot summer, last-minute vacations are being shoved in to squeeze out the last bit of sunshine, sandy beaches, and mountain hikes. Throughout my life as a child and parent the memories of our family vacations stand out as some of the fondest and most humorous to this day. There is nothing like the break in monotony that helps to generate good conversations, wrong turns, interesting food, and different people.
When I was a child we packed the car with luggage, sleeping bags, a tent and ice chest. Not only was highway travel still very much a thing with interstates just sprawling out in the last decades, but the good old reliable Cracker Barrel was yet to be a thought. And the "rest areas" were more than just a pit stop to run to the bathroom. They were picnic stops where shade trees were welcome as cold sandwiches were passed around. And in high fashion for the 70's cold canned soft drinks of an off brand were distributed.
Getting back on the road would mean driving 55 mph with the occasional "how long until we get there" from the back seat. When evening approached the next town became the stopping place and a motel/hotel was checked into for a night of sleep. For some reason my childhood memories of those quick stays have a lingering scent of stale cigarette smoke. Back in this time we were the average one income middle class family traveling on a budget which took nothing away from the adventures of a bear invading our campsite for my baby bottle, skunks meandering beneath our feet while we sat with our father playing checkers or meeting real live Indians in Cherokee.
Cut to, many years later when we had four boys of our own and the minivan was packed down much the same. Picnic baskets were filled, tents were packed up, and "when are we leaving" quickly jumped to "when will we get there." By this time interstates were the main source of travel and trips were well charted with standard stopping places, chain hotels and restaurants were easily mapped out, and child's menus made life much easier. Crayons and color sheets were even provided. We were still that middle class family vacationing on a budget.
By the time the boys got older we were following the lead of friends and renting the beach condo. We still packed the kitchen and ate toast for breakfast and sandwiches for lunch picnic style. We chose one or two spots to eat out and braved the long lines, but all other nights were spent eating home cooked meals in the condo before going out on the beach with a net and flashlight to search for shells and sand crabs. The children would collapse in bed exhausted from galivanting on the sandy beach much like they had collapsed in the mildewed tent after trapsing on mountain trails.
And by the time the boys were teenagers our vacations had turned into road trips to mountain cabins with friends or staying in a large hotel in Maryland to tour Washington DC, and we were still the middle-class family traveling on a budget. Times had changed, travel had changed, and lodging had changed. Roadside motels were a thing of the past for family vacations as were rolled out tents. A camper equipped with a second kitchen had taken its place. Cars now traveled over 70 mph easily on five lane interstates. And now? There is no longer even a paper map or the need for the interstate signs letting you know what is offered on the upcoming exit. We merely ask Siri on our phone or Bluetooth. We can ask where there is a specific gas station or restaurant near by, and we can even order ahead before we reach the exit. The 70's child in me will forever pack a picnic basket of snacks and sandwiches just in case, feeling it as necessary as the traveling first aid kit that has never been used.
This came to mind the other day when I read an article about one of the last remaining motor courts in America. Those small little box houses once served as the resting place for vacationers. I had vague memories of passing these on the roads when I was a child. By then they had become their own thing of the past. But it seems there is an interest in resurrecting such stopping places again. Regardless of what society chooses for a watering hole, the "when will we get there's" will continue to burst forth from the backseat. The family memories of different people, wrong turns, and interesting food will weave into the passed down stories as well. Those squeezed in summer getaways may continue to evolve, but it's the memories we will cherish.
