A series of essays….
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THE SIMPLISTIC JOY OF MOTEL ACCOMMODATIONS IN THE 1950’S |
….as seen through my eyes!
By: Jacqueline E Hughes
Who doesn’t like a good road trip? These past two years have taken the art of travel back into the middle of the past century for me as the act of being a small family unit provided interactive road trips that offered uniquely memorable, yet slightly frustrating and uncomfortable family vacations.
We were just on the outskirts of the beginning of the Interstate Highway System in my early lifetime. From the day President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956, the Interstate System has been a part of our culture as construction projects, as transportation in our daily lives, and as an integral part of the American way of life.
Before 1956, our trips were planned out to the extent of distance in mind, never lasting more than five days (probably less), and the typical long and winding, two-lane roads were negotiated by means of the family vehicle. My Dad was ‘the man’ at the helm, seated in the driver’s seat, mesmerized by the allure of the open road, he navigated from behind the steering wheel of his pride and joy, our American made car.
My Mom, firmly holding on to the purse strings, found enticing Mom & Pop restaurants, would point out an abundance of farm animals grazing in a pasture, or read out loud the multiple Burma Shave road signs that whizzed by our windows. These signs amused all of us and we’d look long and hard for the next series to be seen along the shifting fence posts.
Between tussling in the backseat for prime window positions (mandatory seat belts a thing of the future), entertaining our sixty pound German Shepherd named Queenie, and contending with the wind stream of the opened front windows as Dad chain smoked, his left arm tanning in the sun, we’d play games. Yelling out (after all, we were competing with the wind) the letters of the alphabet from A to Z from words we’d see on billboards, road signs, and barn advertisements was, definitely, the most popular.
The map of any given state we’d be passing through was good for ‘find the small village’ as one of us would choose a town’s name and the other would have to find it on the map. Then there was the color game. Our eyes were peeled to everything passing by us in order to find the colors suggested by someone in the car. No wires, earbuds, or devices to be found (including the safety of seatbelts!). But we did find these games provided amusing ways to pass the time as we traveled through the cornfields and small towns of the U.S.A.!
Secretly, our parents hoped that by occupying our minds we would quit kicking the back of their car seats and annoying them throughout the trip.
Ah, yes… Occasionally my older brother and I would appease the road trip gods (as well as our parents) and chill for periods of time. These quiet moments were very special and allowed us to listen to the swish of the tires on the pavement, the gentle banter between Mom and Dad, and the beating of our own hearts. I wouldn’t trade this time, this memory, for anything else in this world.
Some of our destinations included the Ozark Mountains State Park of Missouri and Arkansas, driving out to Pike’s Peak, the highest summit of the southern Front Range of the Rocky Mountains in North America (not climbing it, rather observing it from down below), traveling up to the Mighty Mackinac Bridge soon after its opening (not crossing it, just looking at it), and visiting Aunt Hattie on the farm in Central Illinois. The month of August, several weeks before the beginning of the school year, was my parent’s preferred vacation time. It was something we looked forward to each summer.
Sadly, not one National Park was included in any of our itineraries.
Reservations! I don’t believe I even knew what that word meant until much later in life. Mom had three criteria for our night’s stay on the road: the place must look clean and neat, there should be a family restaurant nearby, and a swimming pool for us kids was always the added bonus. And we’d swim by the light of dusk in square, kidney shaped, and rectangular pools, the water so cold our lips turned blue after only a few minutes. Small motels in America were the heart of our trips, especially when most of them accepted pets no matter what and provided a cot (for an extra charge) if required.
I recall trying to untangle the knots in my long, blond hair whenever we’d stop for a meal, sightsee, or purchase gas when one of us would exercise and feed our dog. How we managed to survive the swirling of dog hair, keep items from flying out of the windows, and try to hear one another talk, remains a mystery to me. AC in cars was a godsend and comfortably abridged the negative atmosphere of subsequent family road trips.
COVID-19 has resurrected the simple act of car and travel trailer vacations these past few years. Replacing planes and trains with their passengers in such close proximity to one another, the spike in sales of recreational trailers has greatly appeased an industry that is dependent upon the whim of their popularity in order to survive. COVID did its best to reinvent and promote this nomadic lifestyle.
The wave of travel modes is changing once again. Even though the past few years have increased the nostalgia of traveling the open roads and taking family trips by car, these trips will never totally replace the speed and versatility of flying. Airplanes bridge the gap between continents and allow us to see places we could, previously, only dream about. Or, have seen before and desire to revisit.
Nostalgia can be a beautiful thing. It keeps us humble as we travel back into our youth and remember the simplicity we cherished and never knew we could miss as the years rolled along. Swigging pop from ice-encrusted, long-necked bottles purchased at a gas station/grocery store in rural Arkansas to eating pork & bean sandwiches on the front porch of the farm in Illinois, I know I will savor these memories, forever—no matter how many airplane adventures I collect in my lifetime.
Note: Happy Birthday, Ronnie!
Copyright © 2023 by Jacqueline E Hughes
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