Road trip '59.1

For reasons that didn't matter to a fifth and seventh grader, and sister Annah still dragging around her baby red blanket,  dad quit his job, loaded the family into the fifty six Chev station wagon camper car and headed out of town on a summer long road trip.

Late spring fifty nine. Ike didn't take no shit from Khrushoev at Camp David, and the country still felt optimistic about Castro cleaning organized crime out of Havana.  They showed us the pictures in Life magazine.  Old Glory's perfect field of stars forever marred when Alaska entered the union.  I sat second row in from the tall ancient glass windows in old Mrs. Boska's fifth grade classroom top floor north side Largent School Great Falls, Montana.  Big sky country.

Back side of Largent from google street view

Would have thought there were more pictures from that summer in the family archive, money must have been tight, film a luxury one could do without. Only found two photos, one of me playing on the Pontiac taken three or four weeks before this story starts, and the '56 Chevy station wagon cut from the background of a shot taken in the yard at Entiat, couple weeks after the trip ended.  Bookends.

We loved that Pontiac, forget the year. Cool little fog lamps on the front bumper, spot lights on both front doors, dad must have got it from hunters. Light under the amber plastic Pontiac head at the center of the hood.  Kid country, everything behind the brim of dad's hat, seemed vast to me and Justin after the two door '49 Chevy.  Four door windows rolled all the way down, wide bench seat, enough room on the floor to sit facing backwards if you wanted. Just don't bump the back of dad's hat brim if you know what's good for you.

playing on the Pontiac

Used to play in the car sometimes after school.  Enjoying the glow and warmth of the cigarette lighter one afternoon it occurred to me that pushing the hot end into the plastic on the back of the steering wheel created a non-slip grip pattern that the adults would find useful while driving. Imagining myself the center of attention, congratulated for creative inventiveness I pressed a series or neat round indentations into the wheel before mom called me into dinner. Hot plastic almost smells good.

Folks must have put an ad in the paper to sell the car that day, non-slip grip went unnoticed until the first prospective buyer sat in the drivers seat and closed his hand around the wheel. Car sold anyway, probably not to that guy,  and dad got the '56 Chevy station wagon.  283 v-8 with 4 barrel carburetor, slow off the line power glide shush box, but on the open road that car could move.

Dad got the idea to travel in a station wagon with a top rack carrying luggage during the day, then making up into a tint for Justin and Paul at night.  Luggage loaded into the front, folks and Annah sleeping in the back of the car.  Take photos and put it up on pinterest, except it's nineteen fifty nine.

Only time in my life when a major fuck-up went unpunished.  Playing with the closet bar sized dowel for the tint ridge pole one afternoon it snapped in two. Clean break, careful application of white glue, wipe off the extra, wrap the joint tight with strips of cloth from Halloween mummy costume. Hope like hell it sets up good as new.  Heart in throat when we pitched the tint on the newly finished project.  The glue joint held no one suspected.    

Headed west out of Great Falls first of June, got out of school a few days early.  Spent the day pretending I worked there like crew on a the train, hired on to help with chores along the way. Keep a low profile in the back seat while traveling, help with the chores in camp.  Stopped somewhere in the mountains first night, probably made it into Idaho.  Really fun settling into our rooftop tint, sleeping bags and extra blanket, pillow from home.  Breakfast cooked on the campground fire pit.

Next day, dad parked out front of a Presbyterian church in Spokane, job interview.  Position of assistant pastor.  Another interview set for later in the day at Entiat, small town near Wenatchee where he would have his own church.  Remember the pastor of the Spokane church walking dad back to the car after the interview, saying something about how he had a growing congregation while the Entiat thing may be busy while the dam and relocation of the town were on going, but then would die back to sleepyville.  Seemed obvious even to a kid that the guy really wanted dad to come work for in his church.  Dad liked the idea of running his own church, but he also needed a job.

Must have been a Saturday.  Whole congregation turned out for a potluck in the old church basement that evening in Entiat, then dad preached Sunday service next morning.  Evening went well, Justin and I mingled with a gang of kids, we knew some jokes they hadn't heard, they had some new ones for us; tables laden with some of the best potluck food we had ever seen.  Sunday morning church a decent pianist backed up her sister, large attractive woman shook the rafters with classically trained voice.  Bone dry old gent sitting to one side on the platform, not a tooth in his head, shaky hand on fiddle bow accompanying the hymns quarter beat behind the piano.

Driving over the hump to Seattle after dinner with one of the prominent families in the church, we all had a good feeling about that place.  Us kids hoped dad got the job, fair to say we got the job in the sense that a congregation hires the family as much as the pastor.

Now wait it out at Norma and Simon's place in Seattle until he gets a job offer.