Readers' Car Memories

1978 Cadillac Coupe DeVille d'Elegance

Jim Kresnik's family vacations centered around his parent's 1978 Cadillac Coupe DeVille D'Elegance. The Omahan recalls they never vacationed in the winter because snow might fall on the car. In the summer, they would leave at 3 a.m. to shorten the time the car would be in the hot sun.

“I can remember sitting in the back seat, riding alongside big oil tankers,” Kresnik wrote. “The reflection of our Caddy on the shiny tanker made it look like we were in a limo. As soon as we'd reached our destination my dad would wash it to get all the bugs off. It was really an amazing car to travel in. When my twin brother and I turned 16, our parents gave us the car. We still have it, 16 years later, and she looks as beautiful as ever.”

1956 Ford

I come from the epitome of families who took yearly summer camping vacations in the early 1960's. We WERE the original Griswalds!

We went for my Dad's full two-week vacation nearly every year. Our vehicles ranged from an old school bus camper conversion in 1960 (where we broke down in the hills of Eastern Iowa) to a rented upright camper pulled behind a 1956 Ford while driving from Iowa to South Dakota (with my 60 year old Grandfather), to a homemade camper in 1964, which was pulled behind a 1959 Mercury from Iowa to California.

... We took the homemade camper on one of our last road trips in the late '60s where we graduated to a Ford Econoline Van and actually stayed in a “hotel”.

Vacations stopped shorty after that when we were able to eat steaks and we cost Dad too much money. By the time I was 17 I had been in every state West and South of Iowa. That however, was not the end of the vacations.

Last June my sister and I took our 86-year-old father... A trip of a lifetime by boat!! Finally at age 86, Dad could now say he had been in all 50 states!

Jodi Roberts

Fords

Our family car, always a Ford, was as much a means of temporary escape from the farm as it was a way to see the sights. My father drove like a man possessed as he and my uncle competed for bragging rights for most miles driven in a day.

My parents converted our car into a self-contained unit. A large tin chest Dad had made in a high school shop class carried enough food to last several weeks.

Each morning, we fried bacon and eggs on our Coleman heater, and later we shared meals of instant mashed potatoes, gravy, canned macaroni and cheese, vegetables and fruit. My favorite was corned beef hash and home-grown tomato sandwiches. In the evening, after we rented a motel, we ate ice cream in the car.

My mother hand washed clothes in the evening and hung them out the car window to dry the next morning. Sometimes, other motorists honked or waved at us, but Mom didn't care. The sooner she dried the clothes, the sooner she could take movies with her 16 mm movie camera.

Her camera nearly got us into serious trouble in 1957, when we drove by Central High in Little Rock the year President Eisenhower called out the National Guard to enforce integration. Dad drove slowly around the school grounds as Mom prepared to shoot a movie. He drove by again as Mom stuck her camera out the window. She wanted more on film, so Dad drove by a third time.

Suddenly, six rough-looking men advanced from behind bushes and other objects as they began to run toward our car. Dad accelerated and we left them glaring at us. Then, I looked back and saw a police car a few feet behind us. When we turned, the car turned, and where we went, the car was sure to follow. We decided the better part of valor was to get out of town, which we did.

James C. Perley

Little Sioux, Iowa

1964 Pontiac Bonneville

In 1973, our family vacation was traveling to a cabin at Table Rock Lake in Missouri.

Our family consisted of my husband and I, 5 children ages seven to 17 and my 18-year-old neice.

Our car was a 1964, six-passenger two-door Pontiac Bonneville. It's still hard to believe we got everyone in, plus camping supplies and luggage — no seatbelts then of course and the trunk was huge.

Our first stop was to fill up with gas. Every time our car hit a bump of any size, something under the car near the back would drag. We soon found out it was the drive shaft housing hitting the drive shaft. We put five of us in the front seat until we had burned up half a tank of gas and then things were OK. We did this all the way to Missouri, and had a fun-packed time.

While we were there we used up a lot of the supplies, so we could not figure out why we were still having problems on the return trip. It turned out, our 12-year-old daughter had found a lot of pretty rocks while she was there, and hid them in the trunk — 30 pounds of them.

We still get a lot of laughs from that trip.

Donna Seevers

Omaha

1951 Ford Galaxy

We lived in Omaha and my parents lived in Dallas, Oregon, 1500 miles away. With four small children to support on a teacher's salary, staying in motels six nights (round trip) was costly so I reluctantly agreed to try camping.

That first trip, we filled the trunk of our tan 1951 Ford Galaxy with old quilts, an old farm lantern, a new gas camping stove, an army pup tent and a new bucket fitted with smaller pots, pans and tableware. That done, we loaded our four children plus comic books and story books into the car and we were on our way.

Russ had fit the table top he had built behind the front seat to serve as a play area while we drove. At night, it served as a sleep area for our two oldest daughters, 9 and 7. For meals, we attached one side of the table top to the back car bumper and supported it with its only leg.

Our four-year-old son would sleep on the front seat and our 18-month-old baby somehow would fit with us in the tent. The pup tent, barely wide enough for two people, was held up by two free-standing poles. The poles raised the peak of the tent three feet off the ground. To get in and out, we had to crawl on our hands and knees. And, of course, we could not stand up in the tent.

When we reached Wyoming's Ft. Bridger National Park, where we planned to spend our first night, the gate was locked. A sign informed us that due to vandalism, the park had been closed. By this time, everyone was tired and hungry. And the next campground was too far away to reach that day. What to do? We stopped at a nearby filling station to fill up with gas and to buy milk. Hearing us discuss our dilemma, the owner offered to let us set up camp on a field he owned a few miles away.

By the time we had set up our tent and Russ had coaxed our new stove to burn long enough to heat a pan of pork and beans with sliced hot dogs, it was nearly dark. Before we had taken the first bite, someone kicked the table leg. The table tipped and the plates of beans slid to the ground. Fortunately, there were enough beans left in the pan for a helping apiece.

Supper over, we went to bed. We had barely settled in our little tent when our son appeared at the tent opening. “I'm scared,” he told us. Russ reassured him and rose take him back to the car. But as he left the tent, he knocked down the pole near the opening. The tent collapsed on top of us. Russ had barely returned and settled under the quilts when our son again appeared. We suspected the girls of putting him up to this. Russ got up again. And, you're right, he hit the pole and the tent collapsed.

Finally the children settled down. All was quiet – so quiet that I heard footsteps outside our tent. Sure it was an intruder, I roused Russ. But as he crawled out, – you guessed it – he hit the tent pole and the tent collapsed. That night, Mother Nature called several times and each time I crawled out, I hit the pole and it collapsed. You'd think we would have learned. But the pole in that crowded tent was hard to miss.

Out in the open country, daylight came all too soon and awakened the children. Russ slipped out and talked them into sleeping a little longer. But when he returned to our tent, he encouraged me to get up. I did but I hit the pole and, once again, the tent collapsed.

Once I was outside, Russ pointed across the nearby barbed wire fence. There a flock of sheep was quietly grazing. We heard only the sound of their footsteps. Those footsteps matched the sound of our nighttime intruder.

After that first trip, we bought good equipment and camped for many years, covering most of the state and national parks west of the Missouri River. We drove several cars including a navy blue 1965 Ford Fairlane for which Russ built a sled-like container to ride on top.

By the way, that first camping trip took place in 1960. It wasn't until a year ago that I learned Russ was the one who kicked that table leg!

Ruth Richert Jones

Omaha

1958 Pontiac

The summer of 1960 represented, literally, the only vacation, while I was growing up. ...

In the 1950's there was still a draft and all eligible young men were either drafted into the Army for two years or entered another branch of the service voluntarily. In my older brother's case, that was the United Sates Navy. ...

Now, four year later (1960), he was ready to be discharged. Mom wanted to surprise him, so all five of us took the train from Omaha to Los Angeles. We spent two or three glorious days at Knots Berry Farm, the Wax Museum and the five-year-old Disneyland. It was a dream vacation for a kid. If only Hayley Mills had been there it would have been perfect.

After our parks adventure, we took another train from Los Angles to San Diego where my brother was stationed upon return from sea duty. ...

I do remember he had a very cool black Chevy Bel Aire 2 door., I've always wondered, if because we showed up unannounced on the doorstep of his barracks whether or not that compelled him to sell the Chevy and buy a 1958 Pontiac.

Yep, you guessed it, my parents, my 25-year-old Navy Veteran brother, and three pre-teens piled into this 1958 Pontiac and drove 1600 miles home to Omaha, stopping along the way at motels.

One motel in particular I remember was a Travel Lodge with that sleepy eyed bear logo. We got the last room and it turned out to be the manager's office that could be made to accommodate travelers.

I can remember it was less than comfortable. My brother and Dad shared driving duty. ...

If there was ever a family vacation, the first, last and only one taken, where multiple members uttered those immortal words. “Are we there yet?”

Gary Domet

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