After my family moved to
Texas from Virginia we, of course, planned trips across country to visit family
“back home”. We made the trips as often
as possible and in varying group sizes; sometimes it would be Mom and the
girls, sometimes all of us, sometimes this group or that but we would make the
trip as often as our schedules allowed.
Some of our trips were slow and meandering with stops along the way for
sightseeing or visiting anything interesting we found along the way. Other trips were like crazy wild things
without concern for the slightest creature comforts. When my father got a hair
crosswise or when his time off from was work was limited we could pack the car,
get in and drive nearly straight through from Texas to Virginia without a
stop. Our only stops would be those that
were absolutely needed, like gas.
We had this coffee can
with a tight fitting plastic lid that he would take along with us on our crazy
trips and when one of us girls had to pee we would have to squat down in the
back seat over the lovely coffee can and pee.
We would then put the lid on the can and store it and empty it when we
stopped for gas. As we drove along with
four girls in the car our car would look more and more as though it exploded by
the time we would stop for gas. When the
car came to a stop all the door would pop open as though they were thrown from
the car. We would all rush into the
station some running to the bathroom others grabbing snacks and drinks to pay
for, then we would switch, we would unload our trash and reload ourselves in
the car once finished. Dad had meanwhile
gassed the car up, paid, gone to the bathroom and bought his snacks. Off we would
go again only to stop when the car needed gas again.
Once during one of these
straight through trips we got to Louisiana after dark. We were in a Bayou area where there was
literally nothing when the cars lights started to act up. The lights were becoming more and more dim we
could barely see at all. Finally on this
really creepy, empty back road the lights went completely off. At that time cars had “generators” for the
lights and ours was malfunctioning. Dad
drove right along at a pace I was sure would get us killed. My imagination told me that at any second a
swamp monster was going to step out into the road with his hands held high and
his teeth barred to stop us with his buddies flanking his sides, then once we
stopped, they would eat us. This
obviously did not happen.
What did happen was my
father spent a good deal of time searching for an open gas station. In the 1960’s and 1970’s gas stations were
not open 24 hours nor were they open 7 days a week. Gas stations were where car repairs were made
and they did have mechanics on duty during their open hours, so you could have
our car repaired for a reasonable price without all the diagnostic tools they
have now. Mechanics were skilled
craftsmen.
It was around midnight
when my father found a station opened that still had its mechanic on duty. Actually the mechanic owned the station and
lived behind it or we never would have had such luck. My father explained the
problem and apparently the man knew what to do because he went straight to
work. When the man spoke to my father
and asked questions I thought he was speaking in another language and I was
quite impressed that my father not only understood the language but could
communicate with this fellow. It turned
out the fellow wasn’t speaking another language he was “Cajun” and his accent
was so thick that I couldn’t understand a word the said. We girls slept in the car as the fellow
worked under the hood. I have no idea
how long it took him to repair it as I slept through the whole thing but he got
the job done and eventually we got back on the road and drove the rest of the
way. My father had amazing abilities to
stay up and drive. The only thing I
could attribute it to was all the time he spent on stake outs. That man needed little to no rest, but we sure
didn’t have to waste much of our time in the actual “getting to where we were
going”.
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