My mother passed away last December, at the age of 95. Before her memory was gone completely, she would tell us about her camping trip:
It was in the early 30’s and my parents were married but before any of us children came along. My parents had a friend and his wife that had built their own camper, pulled behind the car.
The men went about getting the things arranged on the farms, and the two women were to get things ready for the “trip”.
The two women had neither one killed a chicken, but the got the job done with a hatchet and cleaned the chickens fried them, and baked pies and cakes and bread, as well as making potato salad.
The packed up the car and left for the Black Hills of South Dakota, some 400 miles from the Southeastern corner of South Dakota where their farms were. The stopped beside the road and put down a blanket in the ditch and ate lunch, another time the stopped in a vacant school yard and had lunch or supper.
My mother talked about she surely didn’t know how they made it home with the temperature in the triple digits and no refrigeration available and eating all that food for so long and not getting sick.
My father used to talk about coming home through the western part of South Dakota and the grasshoppers being so thick that the road was slippery from driving over them.
We left MD on May 10, and am sitting on the CHENA River in Fairbanks, AK, on June 21 writing this letter, and the weather is BEAUTIFUL, but we have refigeration on the Montana fifth-wheel and hoping Mother and Father are looking down at us and thinking about their camping trip.
Submitted by Thomas McCall of Hagerstown, MD as a part of the RV Centennial Celebration “Share Your Favorite RV Memory” contest.
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