Bob’s Corner
Vacation memories
From our weekly issue dated August 11, 2010
It“s not that I want a vacation of some length, although this is the second consecutive week writing about that topic. So what if I“ve been publisher for nearly 25 years with Jan. Who needs time off“
OK, it would be nice to take an extended break from the weekly newspaper business. Well, maybe some day. With that in mind, the subject of vacations when I was much younger come to mind. Yeah, that“s what I“m going to inflict on you this issue.
My parents had the idea that if we left our home in San Diego County at midnight or so before heading to their hometown of El Paso, Texas for a summer visit with relatives, we would “miss the heat.“ Yeah, right. I still don“t understand why they thought that, because what happened was that we would be rolling through Arizona (the arid zone) at mid-day with the sun baking everything in sight. Including us.
We didn“t have an air-conditioned car until I was around 18, so the desert heat was ... well, dang hot.
I remember enjoying the Burma-Shave signs along the highways though; they made the trip fun. White letters on red signs in sequential order, and we“d keep our eyes alert to spot them. Here are a couple examples:
His cheek/Was rough/His chick vamoosed/And now she won“t/Come home to roost/Burma-Shave ... To kiss/A mug/That“s like a cactus/Takes more nerve/Than it does practice/Burma-Shave. Those advertising signs of long ago helped relieve the monotony.
And who can forget those “trading posts“ along the way in Arizona and New Mexico“ You know, the ones that had billboards beginning with something like, “Cactus Pete“s Tradin“ Post, Only 340 miles ahead.“ Ol“ Cactus Pete had signs about every 50 miles it seems. They promised items including “Ice cold cider,“ “Live Buffalo,“ “Pecan logs,“ “Cold beer & pop,“ “Snacks,“ and of course, “Souvenirs.“
When you“d reach the site, there“d be a broken-down building with an enclosure containing what looked like an oversize steer with a moth-eaten coat. Everything was overpriced, but the places usually had restrooms, which were a relief, so to speak.
On those trips as a youngster and a teen-ager, my diet consisted of waffles with butter, and sausage for breakfast; cheeseburgers with fries for lunch. No wonder I developed heart disease. Can“t remember what I ate for dinner. Which is probably a good thing.
We“d make the drive in 18 hours nonstop; around 900 miles. My Dad hated to stop. Eventually though, as he reached the age of fatigue, we“d stop at motels about half-way to El Paso. Unfortunately, he wouldn“t stop until all the good places were full.
And don“t get me started on the greasy spoon cafes that were still open. It was always good to reach Granny Vicky“s house, where the vittles were down-home and mostly healthy. Ah, memories.
We want to hear from you!
Add your thoughts with the link below.
Comments returning soon!
Advertisement:
