Driving ... (Part the First)

Opel GT
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Travel, it's something I've done a lot of - by boat, by plane, by train, and (of course) by automobile. Usually I was the guy behind the wheel for 99.99% of those trips by car. But there was this one time ...

So, There I Was¹ ...

Lowry AFB, Colorado, December, 1975 - I was a lowly airman one stripe attending tech school for to (theoretically) learn how to maintain the weapons control system on the mighty F-4D Phantom II. Christmas was upon us and, this being the Air Force, we were looking forward to two weeks (or was it ten days) away.

Now a buddy of mine from my home town was also at Lowry and he too was heading back to Vermont for the holidays. The difference in our situations (other than career fields) was that he was on his way to his first real assignment whereas I had to return to the school for another couple of months.

So we would be driving in his car, he had a vehicle very similar to the one depicted in the opening photo. So keep that in mind, he's leaving to go to another assignment. Some things he would have the Air Force ship to his gaining base, he would need to take some things with him. Again, it's a small car.

Now I was attending class from 1500 to 2100², which was a sweet deal for me and my classmates. But ...

The school staff did not want people to leave school to drive without having a full eight hours of rest prior to doing so. I mean their hearts were in the right place, but ...

I explained that I wasn't going to be driving, my buddy was (well, for the first eight hours or so that was true, we planned on driving straight through, no stops, I would probably be driving later in the trip, which I did, for about an hour). The powers that be said that unless I had an airline ticket, I could not depart the area until eight hours after my class ended. I'll let you do the math.

My buddy was pissed off, not at me, but at my school. I myself was furious, after all I was not some snot-nosed teen for whom this was the first time away from Mommy. Nope, I was 22 years of age and had spent three years working in a factory. Damn it, I was a grown-ass man.

Guess what?

Yup, they didn't care, rules are rules.

Fortunately we were cut loose from class early. But still I had to do my eight hours of penance.

Did I sleep much? Nope, not at all.

We finally got on the road sometime in the wee hours of the morning. We left about six hours after my class had ended, our junior sergeant (three stripes in those days), all of 19 years old, had tried to make me wait two more hours before leaving.

Now in Colorado in those days, if one was under the age of 21, all one could drink was 3.2 beer. Weak stuff, I can tell you. Our sergeant relied on us for getting him "the good stuff." As he admonished me for attempting to leave early, I asked him "So who's going to buy you beer when I get back?"

Yup, headed out the door and got in my buddy's car. It was packed with seemingly all of his earthly possessions. I had a duffel bag with my clothes, not even full, but still it was tough finding space for it. But we managed.

When I slid into the passenger seat, it was pretty cramped, I literally only had enough room to put one foot on the floor, I had to rest the other atop that one. But we managed to squeeze in, and off we went into the Colorado night.

Now it was cold and there was snow on the ground. Did you know that in those days the only way you could tell that you'd left Colorado was by a sign welcoming you to Kansas. Actually I don't even think there was one of those (we were on I-70). Modern day street view has a sign at the border which says "Sherman County Line," Sherman County is in Kansas. But there was this ...

(Source)

At least that sign is there now, might not have been back in the day.

Can you imagine, being in a very small car, at night, out on the Great Plains, it's cold, it's snowy and oh my word is it FLAT. At least it seemed pretty flat to a couple of Vermonters.

So Kansas went by in a blur, lots of farmhouses surrounded by trees, no doubt to cut the wind, and miles and miles of rolling prairie. Northern Missouri, after Kansas City, wasn't much different. It wasn't until we'd crossed the Mississippi that things began to look more "civilized." if you will. (Think more built up, more infrastructure.)

We stopped to get food, might have been a chicken place, might have been a burger place. We were both running pretty ragged at that point. I remember asking the girl behind the counter what state we were in.

"Uh, Indiana?" as if she wasn't all that sure.

Then my buddy said, "That's gotta be right, we just drove through St. Louis."

We got our food and left. I often wonder if that girl grew up to tell her grandchildren of the night two morons descended out of the night asking where they were. I know I would remember that.

Now Indiana is pretty flat, but as I recall it was night again and it had started to snow, not heavily mind you but enough to make us slightly nervous about the road ahead. We crossed through Indiana, where I took the wheel for about an hour while my buddy slept. He woke up to ask why we were stopped.

I confessed to nearly falling asleep which is why I had pulled over, but I was good to go now. He looked at me for a second then said, "I got this, I'll drive." Which he did.

Eventually, around Columbus, we turned north for Cleveland on I-71. We stopped at a truck stop which was jam-packed with tractor trailers. We felt like a small mammal wandering among the dinosaurs.

Cleveland passed in a blur, we'd gotten off at the wrong spot and wound up going through downtown Cleveland. As it was about 3 AM, it was not a big deal. All I remember is remarking that Ohio apparently knows how to deal with snow, the roads were all well-plowed.

Then, as Bill Belichick might have said, we were on to Buffalo. We would be turning to an easterly heading on I-90 there.

Snow, holy cow, snow. I estimated a good 14 inches of fresh powder when we stopped for fuel. I remarked to the chap on duty, "Had a bit of snow last night, eh?"

He answered, "Yup, another dusting, weatherman said we should get a couple of feet in the next couple of days."

Funny guy.

But again, the roads were all well-maintained - plowed, salted and sanded, the going was excellent, even in that little Opel GT.

But heading east through New York state on I-90 was a lot like Kansas, miles and miles of nothing, but with steeper terrain and lots of trees.

Eventually we crossed into the homeland, lots of snow in Vermont, very picturesque in a pre-Christmas sort of way. As I recall the trip took about thirty hours, give or take an hour or so. We made good time.

Spent Christmas with Mom and Dad and my brothers and then headed back to Denver. I flew back and honestly I remember absolutely nothing of that return trip. I don't even remember how I got from the airport (Stapleton in those days). There might have been a shuttle to the base, I don't really remember.

Now I don't hate long, long drives ...

But I'm not a big fan either.

More to come.

Drives to San Antonio from Fort Collins, CO, and back.

Drives to Alexandria, LA from Omaha, NE, and back.

Then the last long Christmas drive, Omaha to Vermont.

Good times, however ...

My butt is sore just thinking of it.

¹ SJC applies.

² 3:00 PM to 9:00 PM for you civvies.