When I think back about my family vacations, I often blur those memories with scenes from National Lampoon’s Vacation.
As many self-employed people do, Pops often traded work. Sometimes it was for labor – plumbing, electrical, mechanics, other times it was for items – frozen meat, dairy, motorhomes.
One year, my aunt and uncle traded their time share with him. We arrived at Lake Powell excited to experience a week on a luxurious houseboat. We had all been drooling over the brochure for months, so when we arrived to see a shiny houseboat at the dock, complete with a slide, we were ecstatic! Our excitement quickly faded when that houseboat pulled away from the dock revealing the actual houseboat we would be living on for the next week. It was old, rusted and bore a striking resemblance to a pontoon.
Other trips involved motorhomes that Pops would borrow from clients. The first year we borrowed one I envisioned it would be an Airstream. You can imagine my shock when the Army green traveling machine with a mural of a mountain scene pulled up in front of our house. Another motorhome trade involved us making a detour to pick up a trailer in San Francisco. This motorhome had a slew of problems, from electricity shortages to flat tires. In addition, our driver, Pops, got a really bad sunburn on the bottom of his feet which resulted in us kids having to peel off the dead skin while he drove. Safety first was never our motto.
Once, while staying at a motel in Anaheim, we got more than just the continental breakfast and fresh linens. We also got to be smackdab in the middle of a SWAT situation – helicopter, snipers, the works. Like every other white family, instead of staying in our room, we stepped outside so we could be right in the middle of the action.
Then there was the time we flew to Virginia and borrowed Aunt Winnie’s Ford Country Squire station wagon so we could go to Washington, D.C. We parked along the National Mall and visited several museums. Due to strict parking restrictions, we knew the car had to be moved by rush hour. Thinking we had enough time, we were leisurely making our way back to the car and were quickly forced to pick up the pace when we noticed the Country Squire on the back of a tow truck. Fortunately, due to traffic, the tow truck had not yet pulled away. The driver, kindly, released the wagon and we were able to return to Virginia without incident, surprisingly.