Open Range

A recent PBS TV program, a 2 year photo chronicle of a small band of wild horses in Montana, brought to mind the many times I had seen wild horses running free when traveling across the country. For some period of time after WWII, the country remained as it was before Pearl Harbor although at the war’s end, an all out effort to regain a peace time economy seeped into every facet of living.

The highway system at that time was basically a series of two lane roads connecting east and west, north and south. The west was open range country meaning there were no fences to prevent animals from crossing, walking or sleeping on the highway. It could be quite dangerous, especially when driving at night. Automobiles had only mechanical brakes and seat belts had not been invented yet. Rounding a curve at 60 miles per hour to see deer, or cattle standing in the middle of the highway only yards in front of your vehicle was a heart stopper to say the least!

Cross country travel by plane was not yet available; one chose car, bus or train. If driving and having to cross the desert, you did so at night. Departure was timed to put as many miles behind you as possible in darkness to avoid the searing heat of day. Canvas bags of water were hung on car bumpers for emergencies. Engines often over heated or fan belts broke. Prudent drivers carried ‘extras’ to cope in various situations. In the western states, towns and gas stations were few and far between. ‘Last chance’ signs on the outskirts of a town warning how many miles to the next gas stop were duly noted, rarely ignored.

Day time traffic was very light. One could drive for hundreds of miles and see only trains passing in the distance, but in the desert areas at night one would frequently see the headlights of oncoming or passing vehicles.

Traveling from west to east, scenic views comprised mountains, forests, desert and prairie. The rolling hills of Midwestern farming lands gradually gave way to towns that were increasingly nearer to each other and which eventually blended into the congestion of the great cities of New York and Philadelphia. About the second or third day on the road, one began thinking of the pioneers crossing the same landscapes but in covered wagons. We counted our blessings at the easy way we traveled compared to the hardships endured by those early settlers. It was easier, but at times tedious.

Calculations based on the visual distance of mountains were misleading. After hours of steady driving, a highway could become a monotonous ribbon narrowing to a vanishing point on the horizon. Sometimes shimmering heat mirages were projections that kept pace a few yards in front of the car disappearing only when the sun set or it rained.

The excitement of unexpected happenings during a cross country trip outweighed the boredom that sometimes crept into attitudes resulting from longs hours of sitting. Spotting a band of wild horses brought a pleasure that was twice observed; first, our surprise and delight in seeing and driving past them; second, talking about them after they were long out of sight. Occasionally we would come across the history of a particular band when we stopped at a road side café and asked about the photographs of horses and framed newspaper clippings on the wall. We took for granted that our trips would always be enlivened by seeing horses running wild, but the development of the national highway system and the ever expansion of cities and freeway businesses plus the loss of open range relegates those days to the past.