Driving to an appointment at a strange new location brought back memories of my first experiences tooling around alone in a car and the sense of freedom it brought - on my own - calling all the shots! The joy and hesitancy of making all the decisions myself. I recalled my first big solo trip. I had taken several short jaunts here and there for a few days away from home either accompanied by a friend or a little sister, but the trip in November of 1971 that went on until late December was the 'biggie'. There was a sense of freshness in being alone behind the wheel. It's been 40 years, yet I still have all the postcards and letters home, a few photographs, some notes and a joy of joys! a sketchbook! Thumbing through them now as an adult with grown children, I wonder what worries went through my parents minds? Communication was not instant then, parents awaited weekly letters or the rare and costly collect call home. I hadn’t a camera at the time, or pocket moleskin notebook - much less a computer or smart phone. I wrote my impressions on a yellow ruled tablet and drew what I saw in a cheap sketchbook, my cash outlays notated on the back of a papersack.After completing school at UCLA, I was discouraged about continuing, having abandoned the painting program and taken my BA in art history instead. I had worked at a couple of jobs that quickly revealed their shortcomings, so it was a perfect time in my uncertain-about-t
he-future young life to go on a road trip. My family had travelled cross-country together many times, so it was not a prospect totally alien to my experiences, and I had grown up in LA, driving its notorious freeways and was comfortable behind the wheel. To venture off on my own for several thousand miles and for more than a long weekend was a bit more intimidating a challenge for me. I made plans. I went armed with a list of names and addresses of friends, sorority houses and relatives, useful as potential stops along the way, figuring on cheap motels when and if those places didn't work out. I drove a shiny new orange 1971 VW Superbug, that would take me 200 mi on a full tank of gas, which in those days cost about $3. So off I went, my trunk filled with oil paints and canvasses ( I was always consciously an artist) a Styrofoam cooler, a variety of clothes in a suitcase, a pillow, and a couple of hundred bucks in cash. Now when my own daughters go we remind them to have chargers for cell phones and cameras, debit cards, and are worried when they don’t text us hourly….how did my Mom keep her cool? I think she was confident in my sensibility and the fact
that as oldest daughter I had built up a resume of competency that was reassuring. My game plan was reasonably structured - yet had enough mystery to qualify as an adventure. When outlining my upcoming trip plans to a newly married husband at a party, I recall the jealously wistful look in his eyes. Stopping for gas in Meridian Mississippi midway through my journey, the kid pumping my gas waved good bye and called “take me with you!” – I knew I was doing the right thing taking this trip.
he-future young life to go on a road trip. My family had travelled cross-country together many times, so it was not a prospect totally alien to my experiences, and I had grown up in LA, driving its notorious freeways and was comfortable behind the wheel. To venture off on my own for several thousand miles and for more than a long weekend was a bit more intimidating a challenge for me. I made plans. I went armed with a list of names and addresses of friends, sorority houses and relatives, useful as potential stops along the way, figuring on cheap motels when and if those places didn't work out. I drove a shiny new orange 1971 VW Superbug, that would take me 200 mi on a full tank of gas, which in those days cost about $3. So off I went, my trunk filled with oil paints and canvasses ( I was always consciously an artist) a Styrofoam cooler, a variety of clothes in a suitcase, a pillow, and a couple of hundred bucks in cash. Now when my own daughters go we remind them to have chargers for cell phones and cameras, debit cards, and are worried when they don’t text us hourly….how did my Mom keep her cool? I think she was confident in my sensibility and the fact
that as oldest daughter I had built up a resume of competency that was reassuring. My game plan was reasonably structured - yet had enough mystery to qualify as an adventure. When outlining my upcoming trip plans to a newly married husband at a party, I recall the jealously wistful look in his eyes. Stopping for gas in Meridian Mississippi midway through my journey, the kid pumping my gas waved good bye and called “take me with you!” – I knew I was doing the right thing taking this trip. I completed it unscathed by tragedy with a little money still in my purse, and a slightly altered perspective. In the months following, I applied to graduate schools, got a job as a waitress, stockpiled my tips, and gathered myself up for the next chapter in my life.
I didn’t always date the sketchbook pages as I drew on them in those days, but they are still intact and sequential. The postcards and letters have fairly legible postmarks to compensate for my hasty handwriting. I was 22 years old, full of myself, both excited and wary about what lay ahead.
In the posts that follow, I will retrace my now 40 year old adventure through the sketches notes and letters home.
