Some of you may remember the piece I sent a few weeks ago about my first bike--The Cactus Rose! In continuation, I thought you might enjoy hearing about another fond childhood memory...
The Bermuda Triangle Trip
It was the mid 1980’s. I’d just finished 4th grade. My brother had just finished middle school. At 13 years, my brother loved cars and never tired of finding ways he could back the car out of the driveway.
We lived in a small town outside of Dayton, Ohio The Heart of it All! The nearby excitement of May’s big events—The Kentucky Derby and Indianapolis 500 still hung in the air.
I guess these were the reasons my parents used in deciding our summer vacation that year…
On the last day of school my friends teamed with excitement over the promises of summer vacation…for many this meant Orlando, Tampa or St. Pete (Florida). A few would have Myrtle Beach, South Carolina to share in their “what I did for my summer vacation” story and the very lucky few might even end up on a family cruise in the Bahamas!
The three points of interest on our week long Bermuda Triangle of Travel—the Kentucky Horse Park, Indianapolis Motor Speedway and the Henry Ford Museum suggested my parents advanced in their lesson for us--You do not need sun and sand to create memories.
The Kentucky Horse Park (Lexington, KY)
http://www.kyhorsepark.com/
In my family we had rules. Some people don’t like having rules following them means giving up preferences and hard fought freedoms. Others love rules. They see the need to bring order to chaos!
While our backseat held clear rules like Buckle up! And no signaling HONK at truckers…the first leg of our trip in our Oldsmobile Cutlass, a mid-sized family car, lead to chaos.
Backseat lap belts allowed for placing a pillow in the middle seat and leaning over for a sideways nap. However, this required entering “no-mans” land. The imaginary shared space between backseat passengers.
It is often thought that the greatest backseat battles are fought over the radio?
Piles of books and magazine barricades were constructed and toppled. At one point, the ice scrapper someone had forgotten to move to the trunk became a weapon in the bop the weasel game. One might reach a hand over into no-man’s land say to claim it only to have it swatted away by the keeper of the order.
“Mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom!!! Eric tried to hit me!”
(I will hug my mother a little tighter this Mother’s Day. I’m not sure why kids always yell Mom).
After realizing my father can hum for two hours straight to any song on the radio…My mother in charge of the front seat trash receptacle impressed with her ability to provide an endless supply of Velamints scented Kleenexes from her pursue.
Moods improved as we rolled up to the paddocks. We were ready to see Man O War or Spend a Buck! Winners of the Kentucky Derby—the prime jewel of the Triple Crown! Instead, we learned Man O War is now a bronze statue and visitors are more likely to be asked to spend a buck to see Bob…
Hi kids! My name is Bob and I am a Mounted Police Horse.
It is my job to patrol the grounds with my partner, Trooper Roy Foster.
I'm sort of a big guy, which is what makes me a good cop.
And listen to kids ask questions, “Does the whole horse get buried?”
you don’t want answered...
Indianapolis Motor Speedway, (Indianapolis, IN)
One destination down and two to go, we were restless.
It was a different time no GPS system just Triple AAA and a roadmap.
Today’s kid is to be entertained. The SUV’s (sports utility vehicles) and culture of guilty parenting have turned the backseat into a mini-movie theater…
What we had to watch was the back of our parents’ heads. I sat behind my dad. My brother always sat on the right behind my mom. To insist or suggest otherwise would cause a rage of silent fuming…I guess my point is sitting in the back of a car for close to a decade you get to know your backseat companion well.
In preparation for our next point of interest the Indy 500 Museum, we played such games as the alphabet game (road sign version), the license plate game, and a regional variety I assume confined to the backseat of a 13 year old boy with Lamborghini dreams called the 5th car we pass is mine…
In preparation for this story, I consulted with my brother to check on the accuracy of family lore. In his own words…
I remember having an Indy 500 poster on my wall after that trip that was an illustration of the first turn of the race. It had a man in the corner holding a “God Speed” sign, which was confusing to me for as long as I had the poster…at the time I was focused on a literal interpretation, which eluded me. One thing I definitely remember being excited about was the chance to take the track tour by bus.
Things must have been tanking. Dad agreed to let us take the tour! One spin around the 2.5-mile oval at speed even a pace car with flat tires could lap. Perhaps this is why two decades later my hands would sweat and I’d yell a little louder as Danica Patrick would burn up the Brickyard…and think okay but do you think this would be the case if her first spin around the oval was aboard a tour bus?
Henry Ford Museum & Greenfield Village (Dearborn, MI)
Having “Google mapped” our course for the trip, I can now see the path of our travels is the shape of a misshapen unicorn head (see below photo). I call this the “Bermuda Triangle” because some questions have no answers.
After four more hours on the road, we finally reached the final leg of our Triple Crown…
We’d read the brochures. “The Henry Ford Museum celebrates yesterday’s traditions as well as today’s innovations, while the nearby Greenfield Village recreates the sights and sounds of the past with live demonstrations and 80 acres of authentic homes and buildings!”
“It’s a place where you can choose your lunch from an 1850s menu or spend a quiet moment pondering the home and workshop where the Wright brothers invented the airplane…”
I turned the corner and stared up at the sign dedicated to the history of flight. I read the plaque…
The Wright brothers earned a steady income
from building, selling and repairing bicycles
at their Dayton, Ohio shop.
We lived a 20-minute drive from Dayton, Ohio and 30 minutes from a national museum displaying their efforts.
Why did we travel over 9 hours to see this?
There is a point when kids quit on their parents. This was mine. No more. Call me ungrateful. Put me back in the car. Mom and Dad agreed. We’d all had it.
In the final four hours on the road, I learned to become my own personal entertainment system with…a Sony Walkman, tapes, books and poking at my sleeping brother with an ice scraper. In a little under 14 hours, it had become clear. More important than asking the question “Are we there yet Mom?” Is understanding the answer family is the destination.
Happy Monday,
Amanda
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