By Jo Zeimet
“First Big Trip” turns on the definition of both first and big, doesn’t it? Well, the first big trip that was really an adventure was around 1976. In graduate school, I had taken a course in 19th Century Art and was avid for Impressionists. I had talked some about this with my fellow teacher friend, Sue Hughes. Sue was a little older, braver, and more adventurous, and suggested a camping trip to the Chicago Art Museum that summer. This was the first of such ventures for me, and well, fill up the tank!
Sue had a 1969 Volkswagon Bug that ran like a top, as well as a loaned tent from an old boyfriend. I learned to drive the floor stick shift, woohoo. We went through South Dakota on the way, said hey to the folks. Hit the Badlands for a day, then a long drive across South Dakota to a little state park outside of Sioux Falls. I can remember swimming in the dark in a little falls area — high risk behavior for a hyper vigilant girl. On through endless cornfields of Iowa, camping in the little green tent. I have a weird memory of eating Mexican food somewhere east of the Mississippi. In those days, I liked me a margarita now and then and ordered one. Sue advised against ordering a margarita east of the Mississippi and I said piffle. Well, what came was tequila in 7Up with a hickory nut floating in it. Note: Don’t order a margarita east of the Mississippi.
We camped in pouring rain, one day drive outside of Chicago. The tent was a little soggy and the campground laundromat not that wonderful, so we decided to drive to a movie up the road at some little town — “Nashville” was playing. We enjoyed the somewhat odd movie, then tried to return to the campground. The little roads in Illinois are a grid, with another little blacktop road about every mile. One cornfield looks like another. We had not kept good notes on our route to the movie, alas. We had a small plastic flask of cheap red wine that entertained us as we drove and drove and drove in the rain. We finally found the campground around 2 am, gracias a dios.
The next day — Chicago!! We had reservations at the YMCA on the South Side, where it turned out that we were the only white folks for miles in any direction, but we were fine. I do remember a chilly elevator ride crowded with half a dozen Black Panther Brothers who thought we were in the wrong place, but no harm.
The Art Museum was simply beyond description. dozens of Monets, Degas, Miro, Turner — OMG! We spent days there before leaving the large and dirty city. Sue had a hankering to go to Nauvoo Illinois, as she has close Mormon relatives. What a strange experience, the Mormon history. She also wanted to visit the Maytag blue cheesery in Iowa, so we drove the rest of the trip nibbling off a large chunk of blue cheese. Sue likes to dawdle some, and can make a long trip much longer. It was decided we would not drive on any Interstate, but spend days on all the little blue and black roads coming back through Nebraska. We saw marvelous grand County Capitol buildings, little historical museums, tiny towns with lush trees and gardens, and yes, a lotta cornfields. Roadside stands with lovely vegetables were good with blue cheese.
As soon as we got home, I bought my own little tent and started planning the next trip. And so it began.
Source: Jo Zeimet’s StoryWorth response, provided as text and a screenshot. Date assigned as November 5, 2019, to match Jo’s “Favorite Toys” story; original response date unknown.
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