The Family Trip West
From James Donahue’s Journal
Just before the barn fire I bought a ten-year-old Oldsmobile 98 at what I thought was a very good price from a man in Brown City. It was a massive, maroon colored, four-door sedan with all of the luxuries that General Motors cars could have in those days. The car had a big V-8 engine, power steering, power brakes, power seats, power door locks, power windows, air conditioning and many other comforts one might imagine from a luxury automobile. I didn’t need this car. I just bought it on impulse because I could.
Also that year I learned that I had been employed by the Times Herald long enough that I now qualified for a full month of vacation. When the insurance company settled on the loss of our barn, and after we contracted to have the mess cleaned up, we suddenly found ourselves with enough money to pay for a nice vacation trip. It was not long before we put all of this together and began planning a month-long trip to the mountains. Doris and I both put in for and got a corresponding month of vacation time off from our jobs that summer.
The next problem to solve was how to pack a family of five into our Mercury, which was up for such a trip but compact enough that we were going to be squeezed to fit everybody in for such a long time on the road. I had driven the Oldsmobile around enough to believe that even though it had almost a hundred thousand miles on the engine and drive train, the car was in good condition and would be up for the trip. It certainly was going to be a more comfortable ride. I took the car to our mechanic, had it tuned up, installed new shocks and new tires, and against his advice, we loaded the Oldsmobile with our travel gear and hit the road.
I had studied the travel maps and atlases and planned out this trip with great care, calculating how many miles we could travel each day, where to find the most scenic routes, and how to best spend one month hitting the finest and most interesting things to see throughout the western part of the United States. Things didn’t go exactly as I had planned, but it turned out to be a memorable trip anyway.
We spent the first day driving to Indianapolis before spending our first night in a motel. In those days you could stop at just about any motel along the road and find a room without having to worry about having to call ahead. Consequently, we just drove until the day was over, we were tired, and ready to crash for the night. It was a lot more fun traveling that way. Also the roads weren’t as crowded as they are today.
I remember on the second day, after we turned west from Indianapolis and followed I-70 into Missouri, I stopped for gas and was almost knocked over by the oppressive heat and humidity after stepping out of that air conditioned car. That was the first time I really appreciated having air conditioning. I also was glad I did not live in Missouri and have to face that kind of heat in the summer.
We drove west to Denver, Colorado, then turned north to follow a “scenic route” through Rocky Mountain National Park to Steamboat Springs as part of our western experience. It was an experience all right. The car worked hard to make the steep grades up those winding mountain passes. We passed steep drop-offs where we could see water streams far below and evidence of places where people were panning for gold. We got so high that at one point, where we stopped for a scenic look and let the engine cool, we found the air so thin it was hard to get our breath. On the trip back down on the other side of the mountain I rode the brake so much that by the time we got into one of the little towns on the way, possibly Grand Lake, the brake linings were smoking and barely stopping the car. I was afraid to go on without good brakes in the mountains. But there were no mechanics to be found. To save money we were eating sandwiches and using a propane cook stove in roadside parks as we traveled, so we stayed there for about an hour, having a meal while I worried about how to get out of our situation. When we got in the car to start out again, I discovered that the brakes were working just fine. They were just overheated.
When we got into Utah, we turned north and drove to Salt Lake City. There we checked into a quality hotel that offered a game room, swimming pool, a fine restaurant and a luxury room. We stayed there about two days, letting the kids enjoy the facility and using it as a central point to come back to after going off to visit the Great Salt Lake, see the Mormon temple. From there we drove south to Los Vegas where we toured all the colored lights of the casinos. I didn’t realize just how inexpensive it was to stay in those big hotels so we checked into a small motel and just drove around enjoying the sights. The next day we took Highway 15 across the Mojave Desert to Los Angeles.
Los Angeles was a massive city and confusing to get around in. There wasn’t a straight north and south or east and west street in the place. All of the highways were eight to sixteen lanes in width, filled with cars racing to and fro and speeds that made it impossible for us to keep up with traffic and read road signs and calculate where we were or which lane we needed to be in to exit and get where we wanted to go. It was insanity at high speed. We found a Holiday Inn and checked in, glad to be out of the rat race. We had a list of places we wanted to visit during our stay there and expected to be there a while.
Our first day took us to Disney World. We really enjoyed our visit there. On the second day we drove out to Long Beach where the famous liner Queen Mary is docked. It was converted into a floating hotel so we didn’t get on to tour the decks, but I got to see it and walk its length. After that we stopped at a pizza place to have our dinner.
It was on the third day that we ran out of money and got into trouble. I went to the desk at our motel and attempted to cash one of our traveler’s checks so we could spend our day at Knotts Berry Farm. I was shocked when the manager told me it was against the motel’s policy to cash traveler’s checks. I was told I had to go to a bank to do that. I found that rule to be quite incredible, since I had been cashing checks at gasoline stations, restaurants and motels all along the way. I spent hours driving all over the city, getting lost several times, before finding a bank. And when I attempted to cash my traveler’s checks there I was told I had to have an account with the bank before they would honor the checks. I could not believe my ears. The harder I tried to find a place to cash the checks, the more I was stonewalled. I became so angry I returned to the motel, checked us out, and announced we were leaving town. I drove northeast until we reached a little mall in a suburb of Los Angeles that had a bank in it. There I pulled in and tried one last time to cash a traveler’s check. We had no cash and the car didn’t have enough gas in the tank to get us across the desert. Something had to be done.
Again this bank also refused to cash the checks. The teller told me with a straight face that I was required to open an account with the bank first. It was turning out to be a hot day so the whole family came into the bank with me. I argued with the teller, called for the manager, and tried to explain that traveler’s checks were for travelers. They should not require me to open an account with the bank, and that we were supposed to be able to cash them anywhere. The people in that bank said they were sorry, it was bank policy. I told them that we were going to just stay there, then, because I was out of money and out of gas and was not going to go out on the hot Mojave Desert without enough money to at least gas up my car. Doris and I sat down on one of the plush waiting chairs. We let our kids run at large in the bank, encouraging them to do as much mischief as they wished. That came naturally for Aaron, and Jennifer was so small she was exploring everything she found. Just having her wandering around in the bank made the tellers nervous. It didn’t take long before the manager came out and informed me that he would cash one check if we would leave. Its value was $100. That was all I needed. I vowed that day to never return to Los Angeles again, and I never have.
That day we turned on Interstate 40 which took us east out over the heart of the desert during the hottest time of the day. People who live in the area say few ever travel the desert during those hours because the temperature usually always rises well above 100 degrees. But we had been stalled so long that our chance of crossing the desert in cooler temperatures were lost. I gambled that the old Oldsmobile would hold up for the trip. As we drove deeper and deeper into the desert the air conditioner could not keep up with the demand. The car got hotter and hotter. The kids began complaining that they were hot. They asked that I turn the air conditioner on. I tried to explain that it was running at full blast. When we put our hands on the windows they were too hot to touch. We suffered on that trip. We noticed that there were very few cars on the road with us that afternoon. But the car held up and after a few hours we finally pulled into Needles for gas and added water in an overheated radiator. The young attendant at the gas station asked me if we had just driven that old car through the Mojave Desert. I told him we had. He said it was 110 degrees in Needles. He had no idea how hot it was in the desert, but said he was surprised that we made it. He said he would never have done anything as foolish as that.
That was how we left California. Once in Nevada we turned north toward the Grand Canyon. I remember that on the way we stopped at a store run by some Native Americans to buy some souvenirs. There was a strange black cloud on the horizon and the people said it was a dust storm approaching. We had never seen anything like that. We drove right into it and through it. The dust was so thick it was like driving in thick fog. We had our headlights on and had to drive slowly just to see the road until we got through the storm. We finally reached the Grand Canyon, spent some time looking at that magnificent place, then drove on to Albuquerque, New Mexico before we checked in for the night. The next day I was shocked to discover that the car had been sand blasted by the dust storm. All of the paint finish was blasted dull, and some spots on the car were showing bare metal.
From Albuquerque we turned north toward Colorado Springs. We came to a town that promoted hot spring baths for health. Doris and the kids decided they wanted to try them. I let them off to soak in the springs while I went to a local Laundromat and washed clothes. From there we tried to follow what remained of the famous old Route 66 back eastward across the country. The old two-lane road was cut off in several places by Interstate 40, but there was enough of it left to find again. It lead us through the Black Hills were the car’s alternator failed. We were stuck in a small town for a day, waiting on one mechanic to order a rebuilt alternator, get it delivered, then install it.
By this time we were all so tired of traveling we were getting anxious for home. Once we started for home, we drove hard and got there in about two days. People said they didn’t think that old Oldsmobile would make the trip. But it brought us safely to California and back again.
From James Donahue’s Journal
Just before the barn fire I bought a ten-year-old Oldsmobile 98 at what I thought was a very good price from a man in Brown City. It was a massive, maroon colored, four-door sedan with all of the luxuries that General Motors cars could have in those days. The car had a big V-8 engine, power steering, power brakes, power seats, power door locks, power windows, air conditioning and many other comforts one might imagine from a luxury automobile. I didn’t need this car. I just bought it on impulse because I could.
Also that year I learned that I had been employed by the Times Herald long enough that I now qualified for a full month of vacation. When the insurance company settled on the loss of our barn, and after we contracted to have the mess cleaned up, we suddenly found ourselves with enough money to pay for a nice vacation trip. It was not long before we put all of this together and began planning a month-long trip to the mountains. Doris and I both put in for and got a corresponding month of vacation time off from our jobs that summer.
The next problem to solve was how to pack a family of five into our Mercury, which was up for such a trip but compact enough that we were going to be squeezed to fit everybody in for such a long time on the road. I had driven the Oldsmobile around enough to believe that even though it had almost a hundred thousand miles on the engine and drive train, the car was in good condition and would be up for the trip. It certainly was going to be a more comfortable ride. I took the car to our mechanic, had it tuned up, installed new shocks and new tires, and against his advice, we loaded the Oldsmobile with our travel gear and hit the road.
I had studied the travel maps and atlases and planned out this trip with great care, calculating how many miles we could travel each day, where to find the most scenic routes, and how to best spend one month hitting the finest and most interesting things to see throughout the western part of the United States. Things didn’t go exactly as I had planned, but it turned out to be a memorable trip anyway.
We spent the first day driving to Indianapolis before spending our first night in a motel. In those days you could stop at just about any motel along the road and find a room without having to worry about having to call ahead. Consequently, we just drove until the day was over, we were tired, and ready to crash for the night. It was a lot more fun traveling that way. Also the roads weren’t as crowded as they are today.
I remember on the second day, after we turned west from Indianapolis and followed I-70 into Missouri, I stopped for gas and was almost knocked over by the oppressive heat and humidity after stepping out of that air conditioned car. That was the first time I really appreciated having air conditioning. I also was glad I did not live in Missouri and have to face that kind of heat in the summer.
We drove west to Denver, Colorado, then turned north to follow a “scenic route” through Rocky Mountain National Park to Steamboat Springs as part of our western experience. It was an experience all right. The car worked hard to make the steep grades up those winding mountain passes. We passed steep drop-offs where we could see water streams far below and evidence of places where people were panning for gold. We got so high that at one point, where we stopped for a scenic look and let the engine cool, we found the air so thin it was hard to get our breath. On the trip back down on the other side of the mountain I rode the brake so much that by the time we got into one of the little towns on the way, possibly Grand Lake, the brake linings were smoking and barely stopping the car. I was afraid to go on without good brakes in the mountains. But there were no mechanics to be found. To save money we were eating sandwiches and using a propane cook stove in roadside parks as we traveled, so we stayed there for about an hour, having a meal while I worried about how to get out of our situation. When we got in the car to start out again, I discovered that the brakes were working just fine. They were just overheated.
When we got into Utah, we turned north and drove to Salt Lake City. There we checked into a quality hotel that offered a game room, swimming pool, a fine restaurant and a luxury room. We stayed there about two days, letting the kids enjoy the facility and using it as a central point to come back to after going off to visit the Great Salt Lake, see the Mormon temple. From there we drove south to Los Vegas where we toured all the colored lights of the casinos. I didn’t realize just how inexpensive it was to stay in those big hotels so we checked into a small motel and just drove around enjoying the sights. The next day we took Highway 15 across the Mojave Desert to Los Angeles.
Los Angeles was a massive city and confusing to get around in. There wasn’t a straight north and south or east and west street in the place. All of the highways were eight to sixteen lanes in width, filled with cars racing to and fro and speeds that made it impossible for us to keep up with traffic and read road signs and calculate where we were or which lane we needed to be in to exit and get where we wanted to go. It was insanity at high speed. We found a Holiday Inn and checked in, glad to be out of the rat race. We had a list of places we wanted to visit during our stay there and expected to be there a while.
Our first day took us to Disney World. We really enjoyed our visit there. On the second day we drove out to Long Beach where the famous liner Queen Mary is docked. It was converted into a floating hotel so we didn’t get on to tour the decks, but I got to see it and walk its length. After that we stopped at a pizza place to have our dinner.
It was on the third day that we ran out of money and got into trouble. I went to the desk at our motel and attempted to cash one of our traveler’s checks so we could spend our day at Knotts Berry Farm. I was shocked when the manager told me it was against the motel’s policy to cash traveler’s checks. I was told I had to go to a bank to do that. I found that rule to be quite incredible, since I had been cashing checks at gasoline stations, restaurants and motels all along the way. I spent hours driving all over the city, getting lost several times, before finding a bank. And when I attempted to cash my traveler’s checks there I was told I had to have an account with the bank before they would honor the checks. I could not believe my ears. The harder I tried to find a place to cash the checks, the more I was stonewalled. I became so angry I returned to the motel, checked us out, and announced we were leaving town. I drove northeast until we reached a little mall in a suburb of Los Angeles that had a bank in it. There I pulled in and tried one last time to cash a traveler’s check. We had no cash and the car didn’t have enough gas in the tank to get us across the desert. Something had to be done.
Again this bank also refused to cash the checks. The teller told me with a straight face that I was required to open an account with the bank first. It was turning out to be a hot day so the whole family came into the bank with me. I argued with the teller, called for the manager, and tried to explain that traveler’s checks were for travelers. They should not require me to open an account with the bank, and that we were supposed to be able to cash them anywhere. The people in that bank said they were sorry, it was bank policy. I told them that we were going to just stay there, then, because I was out of money and out of gas and was not going to go out on the hot Mojave Desert without enough money to at least gas up my car. Doris and I sat down on one of the plush waiting chairs. We let our kids run at large in the bank, encouraging them to do as much mischief as they wished. That came naturally for Aaron, and Jennifer was so small she was exploring everything she found. Just having her wandering around in the bank made the tellers nervous. It didn’t take long before the manager came out and informed me that he would cash one check if we would leave. Its value was $100. That was all I needed. I vowed that day to never return to Los Angeles again, and I never have.
That day we turned on Interstate 40 which took us east out over the heart of the desert during the hottest time of the day. People who live in the area say few ever travel the desert during those hours because the temperature usually always rises well above 100 degrees. But we had been stalled so long that our chance of crossing the desert in cooler temperatures were lost. I gambled that the old Oldsmobile would hold up for the trip. As we drove deeper and deeper into the desert the air conditioner could not keep up with the demand. The car got hotter and hotter. The kids began complaining that they were hot. They asked that I turn the air conditioner on. I tried to explain that it was running at full blast. When we put our hands on the windows they were too hot to touch. We suffered on that trip. We noticed that there were very few cars on the road with us that afternoon. But the car held up and after a few hours we finally pulled into Needles for gas and added water in an overheated radiator. The young attendant at the gas station asked me if we had just driven that old car through the Mojave Desert. I told him we had. He said it was 110 degrees in Needles. He had no idea how hot it was in the desert, but said he was surprised that we made it. He said he would never have done anything as foolish as that.
That was how we left California. Once in Nevada we turned north toward the Grand Canyon. I remember that on the way we stopped at a store run by some Native Americans to buy some souvenirs. There was a strange black cloud on the horizon and the people said it was a dust storm approaching. We had never seen anything like that. We drove right into it and through it. The dust was so thick it was like driving in thick fog. We had our headlights on and had to drive slowly just to see the road until we got through the storm. We finally reached the Grand Canyon, spent some time looking at that magnificent place, then drove on to Albuquerque, New Mexico before we checked in for the night. The next day I was shocked to discover that the car had been sand blasted by the dust storm. All of the paint finish was blasted dull, and some spots on the car were showing bare metal.
From Albuquerque we turned north toward Colorado Springs. We came to a town that promoted hot spring baths for health. Doris and the kids decided they wanted to try them. I let them off to soak in the springs while I went to a local Laundromat and washed clothes. From there we tried to follow what remained of the famous old Route 66 back eastward across the country. The old two-lane road was cut off in several places by Interstate 40, but there was enough of it left to find again. It lead us through the Black Hills were the car’s alternator failed. We were stuck in a small town for a day, waiting on one mechanic to order a rebuilt alternator, get it delivered, then install it.
By this time we were all so tired of traveling we were getting anxious for home. Once we started for home, we drove hard and got there in about two days. People said they didn’t think that old Oldsmobile would make the trip. But it brought us safely to California and back again.