Roads We Traveled:

The First Trip

I’ve been on the road for as long as I can remember — actually, a little before that.

My very first trip was when I was 19 months old. Mom and Dad packed up the family — all six of us — into a 1968 station wagon and hit the highway. Three older brothers, one tiny me, Mom navigating, and Dad behind the wheel. Destination: San Francisco… I think. (Mom still remembers every detail, so I’ll double-check with her when I scan her notes. She kept a journal for every trip, complete with pictures and little handwritten comments that bring those miles back to life.)

Back then, there were no car seats, just vinyl seats and wide-open space in the back of the wagon. Mom loves to remind me that I learned how to climb over those seats before I could properly talk. Apparently, I treated that car like a playground, roaming around as we crossed the country — Kansas to California, with a baby bottle and boundless curiosity.

The road looked different back then. No GPS, no playlists, no fast-food apps. Just paper maps, packed sandwiches, and Vienna sausages in the cooler. Dad drove with quiet confidence; Mom read the map like a pro, finger tracing lines that led to adventure.

She’s 93 now, and still remembers those details better than I do my last trip. I called her yesterday, and before long, we were both back on those highways again — talking about where we stopped, what we ate, and how that first trip started it all. Being on the road can be hard sometimes — the miles, the packing, the long stretches of “are we there yet?” — but the memories make it worth every turn.

Those trips built something deep in me — a love for movement, discovery, and family. They weren’t just vacations; they were lessons in patience, laughter, and togetherness.

I’ll be scanning Mom’s old notes soon and sharing them here — her handwriting, her photos, her memories. They tell the story better than I ever could. But for now, this is where it began: a little girl climbing over the seats of a ’68 station wagon, heading west toward San Francisco, already learning that the journey is where the best stories begin.