After a trip to Alaska at 4 years old, it would seem that it may be all downhill from there as far as trips go. Well, my dad made sure it was not. Every second or third weekend we were gone. My father loved the desert and we would head to Anza-Borrego, Joshua Tree, Red Rock, etc very frequently. My dad would come home from work, hook up the trailer and we would go. My mom would often have a casserole or some such item cooking in the oven as we travelled! We would eat when we got there, normally after dark. On Sunday we would come home late. I remember the trail of tail lights through the LA traffic and I would usually fall asleep.

In the summer we would go 2+ weeks all over. Here are some of the destinations: Banff, Jasper, Sequoia, Yellowstone, Mt. Rushmore, Lake Powell, Zion, Grand Canyon, Petrified Forest, Canyon de Chelly, Durango, Rocky Mt., Glacier, Organ Pipe, Carlsbad Caverns, Everglades, Florida Keys, Disney World, etc.

Long stints in the station wagon with my sister and no air conditioning. My mom never drove so dad did it all. My dad took slides all the way and my mother still has them. I will be looking through them for any photos with the Airstream. As stated in the ‘about’ page, my parents had 6 Airstreams, the years were: ’57, ’62, ’69, ’71, ’76 and ’92 (the one we have).

I have some very vivid memories, usually they are ones that are would have a big impact on anyone.

The first happened at Yellowstone. My parents were visiting with the neighbor campers, as they would do often. My sister was making popcorn and melting butter on the Coleman stove. I was around 9 so I was just messing around as normal. It was just dark. My sister went back to the butter she was melting and there was a bear licking the butter out of the pan. She screamed that there was a bear and ran into the Airstream. She closed the door with me outside. This Airstream had the screen door opening in the middle of the door but she forgot that one. Either way I couldn’t get it so I went and got in the car which was probably safer.

The second time I was about 10. We were coming back from a long trip through Springerville, AZ. There was fresh snow on the ground but a slight dusting. We crested a hill that had some black ice on it and the wind caught the trailer from the side. The rig fishtailed right, the left, then right again. All my dad said was, “Here we go kids”. The trailer ended up at the bottom of the 12′ embankment on its’ curbside. The hitch broke and our car was up on the birm of the embankment at the top. Needless to say I could not be in snowy conditions for quite a while after that. The only thing we could not recover from the contents was a Coleman lantern although the interior looked like matchsticks. We drove home without the trailer. My dad towed it back home the next week. It looked like crap but it towed.

This brings me up to around 1971. The second chapter to come.