Let me say right up front that my idea of roughing it is a Holiday Inn Express. I'd much rather be at a Ritz-Carlton. However, I grew up in a camping family in the 1950s, and I don't mean camping in one of those cute little trailers that everyone loves now.
|Vintage postcard of a 1964 Mobile Scout at the Alamo in San Antonio, Texas|
No siree. My parents' idea of a great vacation was to pack all four of us, plus a ton of suitcases, folding lawn chairs, air mattresses, aluminum J. C. Higgins ice chests, a Coleman stove and a couple of lanterns, cast iron skillets and the biggest tent sold by Sears into the family Chevy and head out for parts unknown.
I looked for photos from those vacations, but I'm sure I got rid of them years ago to destroy all the evidence of what a bad sport I was, because I looked surly in every photo that was ever taken on one of those vacations. It's not that I was a pampered, ruffle-and-bows kind of girl. On the contrary, I was never happier than when I was riding horses or climbing trees. I just never liked smelling Off mosquito repellent, sleeping on the ground or getting campfire smoke in my eyes.
Other people apparently loved all those things though. But you never would have caught me on camera smiling like some of these crazy folks...no siree.