California Bound by Loretta

[Editor's Note: This story was written by Loretta]

Well, mom didn’t get her wish to stay and live in Iowa. Dad convinced her the grass was greener in California, so we packed up the 1949 Plymouth car and trailer. The only one who refused to pack and was holding out was Louise, my older sister. The last hour before we left, mom finally talked her into it.

Now remember in the 50s, speeds on the highway weren’t super sonic. Off we went, at turtle speed, down the road. After a few hours of just setting with no radio in the car we were getting restless. Dad decided to serenade us with old songs and had us sing along on some of the tunes we knew. Today, to interest kids, we watch for license plates from different states, but in those days, Burma Shave signs were the ticket. Nothing lasted for long. Around lunch time, mom had brought the makings for sandwiches. Dad drove while mom made and distributed them.

Dad drove through the night while we slept. By mid morning, he had to stop. We found a town in Nebraska with a park. Dad took mom to the store and bought more food; then headed back to the park. He spread a blanket under a tree and out like a light he went. We played while he slept. By late afternoon he woke up, ate and off we went again.

Dad used to smoke in those days, so when he’d light up, Louise got on the floor boards, covered herself up with a blanket and lit up as well. Blowing her smoke through the holes in the bottom of the car. We of course kept our mouths shut, sticking together with threats from her.

The second night, dad had to stop at a motel. We had the treat of taking a bath and sleeping in a bed. By morning we were on the road again. When we made it to Wyoming, we saw Little America. Mom went to the souvenir store and looked around while Dad gassed up and then, onward we went.

By now, we had started to reach the mountain range which had rocks that over hung along the roads and signs like “Beware of falling rock”. Dad told us that “Falling Rock” was an Indian and to keep a look out for him, 'cause he was a bad one. I think he had us looking all day for him. Anything to keep us quiet. Later we found out he was joking about it.

As California loomed closer, the car started rebelling: it kept heating up but we actually made it to Pomona, California. Uncle Chester rescued us when our car finally gave out. We stayed at their house until mom and dad rented a house.

Now wasn’t that an exciting journey? It took me 48 years to leave California and make a home in Arizona.

Watch for Falling Rock