You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?

I’ve loved traveling since I was a small child. My parents were always looking for new adventures. Mom was from Galway, Ireland and Daddy was from Knoxville, Tennessee. Our first big vacation was to visit my aunts and cousins in Knoxville.

Daddy liked to start off early in the morning before sunrise. We’d pile into our black Chevrolet Biscayne, fondly called Sea Biscuit. Somehow those early starts made the trip extra exciting.

I’d be curled in the backseat with an array of dolls and stuffed animals. I always had a few books, too. This was long before car seats or even seatbelts. I had a blanket and pillow in case I got sleepy. I don’t think I ever did! I was four years old and this was my first trip outside of New York City.

Growing up in a city as big as New York the only country settings I’d seen were in movies and on television. On the journey through states on country roads I was fascinated to by farms, small towns, and gas stations with restaurants that served food I’d never had before. Some of it I liked, Dr. Pepper, some of it grossed me out, greens. But every stop introduced me to new experiences.

We stayed in small motels and cabins. I heard children my age and older with accents that I’d try to imitate. There were phrases I’d only heard in films. I learned “y’all” meant all of you but so did “you uns”. Children speaking to adults called them “sir” or “ma’am”.

The air carried a different scent. I saw cotton fields, fields of wheat and corn, cows behind fences that extended right up to the road. Sometimes we’d pass men riding horses. I’d seen mounted police in New York as well as horses pulling carriages in Central Park. This was different. This was magical.

One of the best things about car travel is the ability to stop along the way to your destination. It takes longer to get from point A to point B, but there’s so much to see!

The trip to Tennessee was the first of many road trips we’d take over the years. One summer we toured upstate New York. I learned there was more to my home state than the bustling city where I lived. There were lakes that rippled in the bright summer sun, mountains so high you could see for miles if you stood on top. There were small towns and big towns. We went to Lake Placid and Whiteface Mountain. The mountain is the fifth highest in the state of New York. The drive up the mountain is beautiful. I remember my ears popping the closer we got to the summit. Although it was summer, it was cold and windy. An observation scope provided the ability to look over the expanse below. I climbed up on the iron steps, stretching to look through the binoculars. Wind was whipping my hair and I held tightly to the metal handles. Suddenly, Daddy grabbed me and set me on the ground. He didn’t scold me often but at that moment he was scared. He’d been frightened I’d be blown down the steep mountain. I was fearless.

On the same trip we went to Santa’s Workshop at The North Pole, New York. Set in the northern Adirondack Mountains, it was a wonderland. Not only were Santa and Mrs Claus present, there were elves and reindeer! I vaguely recall goats and some small kiddie rides. The most amusing part of the visit was being in the North Pole in August!

Another summer we drove all over New England. We stayed in a real hotel! The Hotel Vendome sat on Commonwealth Avenue in Boston, Massachusetts. It was the most elegant place I’d ever stayed. It was old and regal. We rode the Swan Boats at the Public Gardens.

I enjoyed Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Vermont. I fell in love with Maine. The northeast was vastly different to the southeast. There were winding country roads, but the air was cool and crisp even in summer. The scent of pine and balsam tickled my nose. The ocean was wild, tumultuous waves crashing on rocky beaches. New England had its own accents, none more pronounced than Maine’s. I had my first lobster in Portland. It was also where I developed my love of lighthouses. My Daddy drove us to Cape Elizabeth where I saw the Portland Head Light. It was so tall and impressive overlooking the wild ocean.

Over the years we traveled to Zanesville, Ohio to visit my Aunt Sadie and Uncle Bud. As far as I know they weren’t related to us. Aunt Sadie had something to do with sponsoring my mother when she immigrated from Ireland. They had two children close to my age, Nancy and Billy. I don’t remember much about that trip. I do recall my mother getting lifted onto a big horse behind one of Uncle Bud’s friends. She was not happy. But, she laughed.

After my parents split up my mode of travel changed. Mom and I took the train to Knoxville to visit my Daddy’s family. They weren’t too happy with Daddy’s new woman and insisted Mom go fot vacation. Traveling by train wasn’t as comfortable as having the back seat of a car to stretch out in. But I was older and didn’t require toys or pillows to snuggle with. There was something new and exciting about riding on a train. We left from Grand Central Station which was breathtaking by itself. I’d been to the station before but never to board a train.

We boarded the train for short ride to Washington, DC where we changed to the next train that would take us all the way to Knoxville. It was daylight when we left New York City but evening had fallen by the time we arrived at the Capitol. Train travel at night is a different experience than chugging along during the day. Mom and I had comfortable seats, far more comfortable and roomier than today’s airplane seats. Watching the changing terrain, tree lined tracks and small town lights, was a very different experience than watching it from the backseat of a car. The regular rocking and clicking of the wheels on the track were hypnotic. During the day there were occasional stops in small towns. Local people would come aboard selling box lunches containing everything from hard boiled eggs, sandwiches, and a piece of fresh fruit. The further south we traveled the contents changed. There might be a chicken leg and a piece of cornbread, a fluffy homemade biscuit, and a slice of homemade pie or a cookie. They were inexpensive and usually in small brown boxes. These people fascinated me. What were their lives like? Was this how they made money?

Having experienced the excitement of train travel, my mother opted to take the Greyhound bus on our next trip south. After the comfortable train ride where the rocking of the rail cars was soothing, and after stretching out in the big back seat of my father’s Chevy, Greyhound Bus travel was a gigantic disappointment. The seats were smaller, the turnpikes and interstate highways were boring. While there were rare stops, service stations did not provide as many goodies as they currently do. It wasn’t as costly as the train. The Greyhound bus station (Port Authority Bus Terminal in Manhattan) was not as elegant as the train station.

I didn’t take my first airplane trip until I was 21 years old. It was June 20th, 1971, the day after my first wedding. We flew on a propeller plane from LaGuardia Airport in Queens, New York to the Poconos in Pennsylvania. The plane didn’t look anything like the jets I’d seen in movies. To use a word that was common in the 60’s and 70’s, it was ‘dinky’. I can hardly remember what it looked like.

Traveling has always been a big part of my life. In recent years I’ve flown to Mexico, Great Britain, Italy, and Spain. I’ve cruised the Caribbean, the Pacific Northwest, and the Mediterranean. Travel has changed dramatically since my childhood. Back then I never dreamed of the adventures I’d have. I thank my Dad for giving me the wanderlust to explore new places. I hope my next journey will be to Ireland where my mother was born and raised.