The four travelers didn’t knock on my apartment door until about 10:00. All of that concern about nothing.
They had decided to drive to Allegan before picking me up. Uncle Harry’s parents are buried in a local cemetery and he wanted to place flowers on their grave. After visiting the cemetery they stopped at a bar in Kalamazoo. It wasn’t officially open, but the proprietor decided to open for them. They had consumed a case of beer and most of a fifth of whiskey on the drive and were still thirsty.
When I opened the door, my dad slurred, “Hey Rob, how you doin?” My cousins asked, “Where are all the girls?” The final confirmation was my Uncle Harry’s bear hug and whiskey breath. They were all toasted.
At first I thought that my two married cousins were kidding about the girls. They weren’t. I believe that their interest was driven by two factors: they were jealous of my single status and they were drunk. We walked down the hall to “the girls” apartment and I introduced Gene and Dick. We spoke briefly, inquired if breakfast might be available, and somewhere between the two apartments we ate. The senior members of our party took the opportunity to take a nap.
After their brief pit stop we piled into Gene’s brand new, about to be christened, Ford Torino and headed off. Gene decided to take “the back roads”. They/we had all been drinking and we didn’t want to have any trouble with the police. He thought that “back country roads” would provide cover from the police patrols. The two elders were in the back seat and the three twenty-somethings shared the front bench seat.
About an hour into the drive, we were in a hilly section of Indiana. The hills didn’t slow Gene, and although we never bottomed out as the car made its up and down path, our stomachs did churn. My dad got sick to his stomach. He thought he had rolled the window down before he threw up, but he hadn’t. Instead he puked on the glass, and then rolled the window down. (After our arrival at our destination Gene went to a car wash and removed the back door panel so he could clean the car. I expect that new car was never the same.)
The next thrill on our up and down hill ride was almost tragic. Gene wasn’t afraid to exceed all speed limits. When you are traveling as fast as we were, its impossible to see what is over the next rise in the road. As we traversed another blind hill, we found ourselves closing in on a tractor going about five miles an hour. Gene jerked the car to the left as Dick and I sucked air. If we had traveled forward one more second, we would have driven right through the tractor and that probably would have been the end of the line for all six of us.
Gene pulled over and turned the driving duties to Dick or me. I don’t remember who. I am very certain that the remainder of the county drive was completed “under a yellow caution flag”.
We arrived at our Uncle Dick and Aunt Ann’s house where we would spend the next two nights. We played cards during the afternoon and went out on the town that evening. One of the stops that night was a strip club. This was my first strip club and I was sitting shoulder to shoulder with my dad. While I found the situation to be awkward, the talented lady on stage was not. 1968 was an era of tassels and g-strings. Our featured performer would spin her tassels left, right, and simultaneously towards the center. Looking back, the only logical explanation for her talent and dexterity was that she must have been ambidextrous. When she lit the tassels on fire and continued the spinning, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Happy birthday to me.
We had several run ins with other late night revelers but I’ll save those tales for the “dark web”.
The partying continued throughout the evening until late at night. We all slept well and made it to the race the next day. We joined about 299,995 others to witness the running of what some may call the greatest auto racing spectacle of them all.
I never sat down. If we had seats, I don’t know where they were. I expect that we were all “hung over” and happy to be alive. I have three very clear visions from that day at the track.
- My dad and Uncle Harry had two distinct outfits on as they walked side by side through the various racing venues. Uncle Harry was dressed all in black and stood about eight inches taller than my dad who was dressed all in khaki. They acted like brothers but carried two distinct styles as they traveled the racing grounds and their friendship throughout life.
- One of the “whooshmobiles” stopped directly in front of me while circling the track. It was traveling at over 160 miles and hour and then it wasn’t. It just coasted to a silent stop.
- As Bobby Unser took his curtain call to celebrate his win, I stood across the brickyard from him and our eyes met, we gave each other a quick nod, and he toasted me as he took his celebratory chug of milk.
That toast took place fifty years ago today.