Gray Matters by Stuart Carlson and Jerry Resler for September 02, 2019

Breathing in that second hand smoke.

Pointless, maybe. But fun. And we often went somewhere with a treat at the destination.

Yep. Exactly where the phrase “Sunday Driver!” originated. People driving leisurely along the parkway (I’m remember the Taconic Parkway in NY) and enjoying the views at 35mph, and remembering my Dad getting angry and trying to pass them.

Ours was a 56" DeSoto…

Trapped in a car with 3 smokers…with motion sickness. I used to beg to stay home. Then they let me sit in the “way back” of the station wagon and it was better.

A leisurely Sunday drive was a little easier when the blue collar bread winner made less than $100/week, Mom was a homemaker, and gasoline was about 23¢/gallon. I believe that is a 1955, not 1956 Ford Fairlane 500.

Whatever happened to the phrase ‘It’s not the destination it’s the trip’?

Cheap gas. No seat belts. Ciggies. Always asking Dad if we were going to run out of gas. Boredom. Hindsight always looks better than the real thing

Ugh, my dad smoked and I always got carsick. It wasn’t until he quit that I realized the smoke was what was making me sick.

“Buckle up for safety, buckle up.”

That was one of the highlights of my childhood memories. We didn’t have tons of money, but almost every weekend my Dad and Mom would take my brother and I on a mystery trip. My Dad had a keen sense of direction and even though we thought we were completely lost he would always know how to get us home. We had wonderful adventures driving around Oregon getting “lost” in the process. My Mom and I both got carsick so we’d trade off sitting in the front seat, but it never spoiled the trips.

When my dad suggested a Sunday drive, he usually had High’s Ice Cream as a destination.