I once won the lottery. Instead of receiving one of those giant checks for an astronomical amount of money, I got my draft notice in the mail. Yes, I won the draft lottery and it’s still the only lottery I have ever won. A high school friend of mine, who was in the same draft boat, and I decided that before we went into the service we should do something extreme. On a Saturday morning in the summer of 1970, we jumped in his 1965 Mustang convertible and headed out on Route 66 for a three week, round trip journey from Chicago to California. For a couple of sheltered suburban teens, it seemed extreme. We had a journey of marvelous adventures, spectacular sights and a few harrowing experiences. Any resemblance to the classic T.V. drama “Route 66,” from the early 60s is coincidental. Even though my friend had black hair like George Maharis, and I had (noticed the past tense) red hair like Martin Milner and we were driving a sporty American convertible, we were not trying to imitate the classic anthology series. Unlike the show, we didn’t get involved in the personal problems of some random local resident of a backwater town along the way. I still think I have better acting chops than Milner though.
My former high school friend married my sister and became my worthless brother-in-law. Just a joke (or is it). I’m sure he has some redeeming values.
This past summer we both received notice of our 1969 high school graduating class’s 55th reunion. While I was able to fly back for our 50th, unfortunately my friend could not. It had been years since he made it back to Chicago and he longed to go to the reunion and also see his brothers. He pined about doing another road trip like we did 53 years ago. His failing eyesight put a crimp on that idea. Considering some of the drivers we experienced along the way, being blind did not stop them from heading out on the Interstate. Being the wonderful brother-in-law that I am, I suggested we recreate our 1970 road trip to drive him back to Chicago. Unlike our 1970 journey, we were driving a very non-sporty hybrid SUV, our luggage had more medications in it than clothes and I think we stopped at every gas station for a “pit stop,” if you know what I mean. Well, it seemed like it.
To start our trip, we tried to take a route that would get us out of California on one tank of gas. The price difference of gas from California and the rest of the country is outrageous. Considering that gas was $2.98 in Oklahoma, my brother-in-law had to convince me to continue on to Chicago and stop driving in circles around the Sooner state.
Our long drive to the midwest was uneventful and we arrived on schedule. The big difference was the weather. From California through central Illinois the temps were in the 80s during the day and the sun was shining. Once in the Chicago area it was in the low 50s and raining sideways. Since both of us were born and raised in Chicagoland, we knew not to trust the weather and were prepared with sweaters, coats, hats and waterproof shoes. You might ask if I had thrown a snow shovel into the back of the car? Never know, I may have.
This reunion was considered an off year meeting. Usually the notable reunions happen at 10, 25 and 50 years. Our class reunion organizer tries to have a get together every 5 years. For us out of state folks, these are difficult to attend. Considering our advanced age, as time goes by, there are less chances to meet up with old classmates, and I do mean old, and reminisce. At our first reunion event, it was hard to miss that the list of classmates who have passed away was much longer than those in attendance. I think the number one topic of conversation was pre planned funeral arrangements.
Whenever someone came up to say hello to another person, they all first looked down at the name tag with our graduation pictures in an effort to figure who we were talking to. Some people looked great, others not so much and it was obvious that I was the only one who hasn’t aged since high school, or at least that’s what I see when I look in the mirror each day. It was good to catch up with some folks I haven’t seen since the 1960s. We had fun evening trading stories, becoming friendly with classmates we never mingled with in high school and even tried to dance to the music provided by the evening’s band, The New Colony Six. We had one gentleman take a fall and not break a hip. Now that’s a highlight.
The next day’s Homecoming Parade had to be canceled due to heavy rain but we were able to tour both of the campuses of our school. Our school was and still is larger than many colleges and has two different campuses about a mile apart. One for Freshman and Sophomores and the other for Juniors and Seniors. Confusing and a story for another time. My brother-in-law and I took tours of both of the campuses and ended at the “Corral.” An entertainment facility located on the south campus where students can go on weekends, listen to music, dance and have some snacks, while being supervised. From what we were told, it is still as popular today as it was when I was in school. A parents dream!
My brother-in-law was soon picked up by his brothers for a visit with them and I headed to the homecoming game. Yes it was cold, it was blowing, and it was raining but it was a football game. It has been years since I attended a high school game when my sons played and it was nice to get a taste of that atmosphere again. I think I was the only one from my alumni class to attend the game. I got wet but enjoyed sitting in the stands second guessing everything my team’s coaches did. Just like old times. They did try to throw the ball too much considering how windy and wet it was. Now-a-days you don’t have to tell the coach he screwed up, face to face. I can just text my advice to him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate my opinion.
My brother-in-law was able to spend a great deal of time with the brothers, who he hasn’t seen in decades. I was able to spend my last day in Chicago fuming at the television in our hotel room as the Bears stunk up Soldier Field against the Vikings. And to think, I was ready to get a ticket and taking the train down to the game. If I had, I might have embarrassed myself on national television.
We left the following day and headed on home, before I could go to Halas Hall and give a piece of mind to the Bears coaching staff,. Our drive back was again uneventful except for the occasional truck accident. When we were young men we spent much of our trip exploring places like the Painted Desert, Petrified Forest and Meteor Crater in Arizona. Instead of sticking to the interstate we took some back roads and found some interesting sights not normally seen by the regular traveler. On this trip, our biggest excitement was to find rest stops that were open with clean bathrooms.
It was quite the trip and a proper ending to a story that started 53 years ago. Many years and many miles have passed since then and we have lived dramatically different lives, but we were able to come together for one more adventure while we could do it. One more thing, thank goodness for cruise control. That would have been so handy in 1970.
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