This book was inspired by the six month cross-country road trip my sister and I took when we were in our early 20’s. Mitzi and I set out on an extended journey that would ultimately change the direction of our lives. We planned it for a year, saved our money, and bought a used red car for the trip. There was a lot of planning to do; our itinerary, packing for unpredictable weather, buying ready-to-eat foods and snacks, gathering maps, coolers, and camping supplies. A friend gave us a large homemade storage box, so we painted it red to match the car and attached it to the top with ropes and a ski rack.

People always ask me if the book is a true story. I will say that while parts of the story are true or are based on real events, the majority of the story is fiction. Some tales remain undisclosed and ended up in the editing trash bin, but they will never be forgotten. I feel very blessed that I actually saved these pictures from our cross-country excursion because these pictures were taken in 1977!

What is true? I do have three brothers and one sister. We grew up in Galion, Ohio with generations of family all living nearby which made for large and enthusiastic gatherings. Our home was at the end of a road and beyond it were hundreds of acres of forests, ponds, streams, orchards and corn fields. It felt like we lived in a wonderland that provided us a large playground of fascinating explorations of nature. We explored the woods, hiked through the corn fields, rode our bikes through the apple orchard and ice skated on the icy ponds. We spent a lot of time playing outdoors with tadpoles and frogs and butterflies; and on summer evenings, we chased lightning bugs and hooted at the mysterious owls that were perched high in the trees. One day, we all gathered tree branches so Dad could build us a bridge across the creek. When it was finished, five of us ran across it ecstatically to enter our massive playground.  

Florida was our holiday destination each year and we piled all seven of us in the station wagon to drive down to the sunny beaches for the Christmas holiday. My grandmother Minnie, did die when I was five years old; when there were five of us toddlers all under the age of six. And, yes, Grandma Swalley had us over for slumber parties and taught us how to make cakes and pies—and how to crimp the edges of the pie crust.

And the “the rocket incident”—well, that is true, but it was not a good outcome. My brothers built a rocket from an old metal washing machine agitator. It did fly up into the sky so high we lost sight of it, and it did plummet dangerously toward the ground. But it didn’t land in the creek—it landed on the roof of the house, crashed through the attic and then the ceiling, and landed on the floor in my brother’s bedroom. Needless to say, Dad was not happy, and like with so many other incidents, he said to the boys, “If your brain was gasoline it wouldn’t run a piss-ant’s motorcycle around the inside of a Cheerio.” This phrase always makes me smile.

The trip Mitzi and I took was truly an adventure that could never be duplicated. We traveled from Ohio to Florida and camped on the sandy beaches, then we went to the Mardi Gras in New Orleans. It was the biggest party I have ever attended, with music pounding the earth while the parades entertained us. Our next stop was in Galveston, Texas where we celebrated Mitzi’s birthday on the beaches of the Gulf coast.