Lynne and of the windshield in the Midas mini motor-home. (Photo provided)

I really don’t get jealous when I see Facebook posts showing photos and videos of my friends’ family vacations.  That’s because, to quote the late Johnny Cash, “I’ve been everywhere, man.” 

If I had to organize my childhood family vacation memories into three categories, they would be:  Brave, Midas and Warrior.  Ironically, these categories are not only the names of the three campers my parents owned; but they also describe our family’s mindset during the years we owned each camper.

A ‘Little’ Home for the ‘Brave’—After a weekend of camping in a borrowed pop-up camper, my parents decided they liked the activity enough to purchase a used Winnebago Brave truck camper in the spring of 1976.  I think Mom and Dad decided to purchase a camper for our family vacations because it provided a more economical and health conscious way to travel.  A year earlier, Dad had undergone triple by-pass heart surgery and traveling by car meant eating a majority of meals out.  Being that it was the 1970s, most restaurant entrees were fried and therefore not part of a heart-healthy diet.  At any rate, my sister Cheryl and I were thrilled about the camper and couldn’t wait to sleep over in this (very) little house on wheels. 

The Winnebago Brave truck camper was literally a camper mounted on a pick-up truck.  This meant that all four of us had to ride in the cab of the truck, which really wasn’t a big deal.  I was six at the time and my sister was three, so we fit comfortably up front with Mom and Dad. The truck camper featured a generous over-the-cab-bunk, a dinette that made into a bed, a small but functional kitchen and a decent sized closet.

The closet actually housed the most important item in the camper:  a port-a-potty.  The “corda-potty” as Cheryl called it was a most welcomed convenience when camping overnight with two small children.  I remember being worried that a piece of clothing hanging overhead would fall into the potty, but that didn’t stop me from swatting at the clothes while using the facilities.  Cheryl and I were short enough that the clothes never really got in our way, but I imagine that Mom and Dad were constantly on guard for falling attire while using the “corda-potty”.

Lynne and Cheryl play outside of the Winnebago Brave truck camper, the family’s first venture into a vacation home on wheels. (Photo provided)

We had some great family vacations in the truck camper including a trip to Florida in January of 1977.  One of the highlights of this trip was a stop in Plains, GA, the hometown of Jimmy Carter.  We were actually in Plains on the very day that Carter was inaugurated as the 39^th president of the United States. Cheryl and I got souvenir t-shirts that said, “This little peanut was found in Plains, GA”.

We also visited a cousin on my Dad’s side of the family who was an EMT in Homestead, Fla.  Cousin Rick took us on a tour of the fire station and showed us all the lifesaving equipment in the ambulance.  When he put an inflatable cast on my leg and bandaged my arm, I fell in love!  This was a real life version of my favorite TV show Emergency!  I thought Cousin Rick was the greatest and had a crush on him for a long time after. 

I celebrated my seventh birthday on that Florida trip; we had cake and presents in the camper and went to Cypress Gardens and Silver Springs to commemorate the occasion. 

Our “Brave” family endeavor into the world of camping via truck camper came to an end in 1978 when Mom and Dad bought a used Midas mini motor home.  Cheryl and I had gotten too big to fit in the cab of the truck camper and Mom was nervous about us riding alone in the back; so upgrading to a larger RV made sense. 

The ‘Golden Age’ of family camping—The “Midas era”, in my opinion, was the golden age of our family camping adventures.  We were actually on a mini-vacation downstate when we traded in the truck camper for the Midas.  Of all three campers, the Midas was my favorite.

At left, breakfast time outside the Winnebago Brave truck camper. At right, Lynne and of the windshield in the Midas mini motor-home. (Photo provided)

In the Midas, I had full occupancy of the over-bunk and was in direct line of the ceiling AC unit.  There was a large, comfy couch past the kitchen area that made into a double bed for Mom and Dad.  The whole rear portion of the Midas housed the bathroom which featured a walk in closet and bathtub with shower.  In addition to air conditioning, the Midas also had a generator and real wood cabinets.

Our first big vacation in the Midas was a trip out West to Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming, Montana and Canada.  It was only after this excursion that the true “personality” of the Midas became apparent.

We were driving south on old US Route 51, a two lane extremely rough highway, when a car pulled alongside us.  The people in the other car caught Dad’s attention and started making frantic motions, first pointing to the pavement and then pointing to the shoulder, indicating that we should pull over. 

There seemed to be a grinding noise coming from the back of the Midas, but it was difficult to make out any specific sounds due to road noise and open windows.  Once Dad pulled over and we all got out; the urgency of the situation became apparent.  A bracket holding one end of the gas tank had broken and we had been dragging the 50 gallon fuel tank for at least several yards.  This was one day when our guardian angels put in some overtime!  The Midas got towed to a service station where it was temporarily repaired.  We made it downstate to see our cousins, one of whom had welding equipment and fixed the gas tank permanently.

The ‘near death gas tank episode’ was only the first of many mechanical problems with the Midas.  We spent Easter weekend one year parked behind a service station in Missouri and had to drive home from a weekend camping trip at no more than 20 miles per hour due to some other malfunctioning engine part. 

Our final vacation adventure in the Midas was a trip out East to Pennsylvania and Washington D.C.  We took this trip in the summer of 1982, right before I started eighth grade was would be studying American history.  Finding a place to camp wasn’t too much of a problem until we got to Philadelphia.  Surprise!  There aren’t too many campgrounds in downtown Philly.  It was getting dark and my parents were getting desperate to find a campsite, so as a last ditch effort, they parked in a hospital parking lot. 

Lynne’s favorite perch was an overhang sleeping space in her family’s Midas motor home. (Photo provided)

Darkness fell and there was a knock on the door.  It was a security guard from the hospital who politely asked us to move the camper to a different section of the parking lot.  Apparently, our original location was blocking the guard’s line of vision to the hospital which prevented him from seeing the employees safely to their cars. 

Dad moved the camper and we settled in for the night.  Since it was the middle of summer, we were sleeping with the windows open since running the generator for the AC would be too noisy. 

Everything was fine until about 4 a.m. when migrant workers gathered in the parking lot, awaiting the buses that would take them to work.  According to Mom, who didn’t sleep at all that night, there was a significant amount of wino traffic and bottle clanking around the camper that night.  Thankfully, the next evening, we found a quiet city park and camped there.

The Midas’s constant breakdowns eventually took its toll on my parents who decided to purchase a brand new camper.  They traded in the Midas on a 1983 Winnebago Warrior mini-motor home.  Right away, Cheryl and I were thrilled because the Warrior had bunk beds.  We figured we would sleep in the bunks and Mom and Dad would share the over bunk.  After our first time out in the Warrior, this plan was scrapped.  Mom and Dad preferred beds closer to ground level, so Cheryl got the top bunk bed and I again had a vantage point in the over bunk.

Soldiering on in the Warrior—Despite being brand new, the Warrior was definitely lacking in some respects over the Midas.  Gone was the comfy couch, spacious closet space and bathtub that we had in the Midas.  The “closet” in the Warrior was a small chest high cabinet, hardly spacious enough to hold clothes for four people.  The Warrior’s shower facilities were most disappointing of all. 

At first glance, the raised “shower deck” seemed spacious, that is until you closed the curtain.  The convenience of having a shower in the camper was quickly overshadowed by the annoyance of the shower curtain sticking to your soapy backside when you tried to wash your front.  It was a bit of a vicious circle; rinse your backside, the soap from the curtain sticks to your front and back and forth until someone yells at you to get out of the shower, or you simply give up.  It got to the point that our family used the Warrior’s shower as a last resort.

We did take some fun family vacations in the Warrior including one to Texas and Mexico in 1983, a trip to North and South Carolina in 1985, a journey to California in 1987 and the last family vacation I went on, a trip to New York state and Niagara Falls in 1989. 

One particular episode from the Texas trip stands out in my memory; I call it, “The Day the Camper Flew”.  This vacation took place during the Christmas holiday, so the Warrior’s water tank was filled with anti-freeze.  Due to record breaking cold temperatures in Texas that year, the anti-freeze remained in the water tank throughout our trip.  To compensate for the lack of drinking water, Mom filled a big stock pot with tap water and placed it in the shower. 

From left, Cheryl, Lynne and Mom stay cool under the awning of the Midas mini motor-home. (Photo provided)

While driving through San Antonio, Dad accelerated to make it through an intersection before the traffic light changed.  As we approached the crossing, the camper hit a dip in the road and went air-borne through the intersection.  I was abruptly hurled out of my perch in the over bunk and tumbled to the ground as a tidal wave of water from the stock pot drenched everything in its path, including me.  Thankfully, I wasn’t hurt and after mopping up the aftermath, we were once again on our way.  I’m sure that Dad got chewed out for this event because that was the first and last “Flight of the Warrior”.

Beyond the impressive achievement of visiting in 28 states plus Canada and Mexico, in the camper; I owe my first taste of teenage romance to the Warrior.  In June of 1984, we were on a weekend campout with some other families from the Rockford area.  Dad tricked out the camper with a bike rack, so we brought our bikes with us.

It was about mid-afternoon on Saturday when Jim, a teenage boy from our group asked me to go on a bike ride with him.  Not wanting to rebuff interest from a member of the opposite sex, I jumped on my beige Huffy three-speed bike and took off with Jim.  What followed can only be described as a two and a half hour death ride in the summer heat, with no helmet, on unfamiliar country roads. 

I had not brought any water with me; so when Jim offered me a sip from his water bottle, I guzzled down the warm, stale liquid.  As an awkward, non-athletic 14 year old girl, I never complained about the rancid water or duration of the ride to Jim, but chalked it up to the things we do for love.  We made it back to the campground barely in time to sneak into the chow line for dinner that night. 

Being a good sport on the “death ride” paid off as Jim asked for my phone number at the end of the weekend.  He was an excellent first boyfriend and we dated for about two and a half years.  To this day, I enjoy biking as a recreational activity.

Despite the cramped quarters, the constant breakdowns and camping in some “interesting” locales; our family vacations in the camper provided us with numerous educational experiences and most importantly, priceless family memories.

—ONE FAMILY’S SUMMER VACATIONS: Unbelievable, but true camper memories–