Ridin' in the Way Back

We used to fight over it. "No, it's my turn," "I'm gonna tell," and "Mom, she won't let me!"

Ridin' in the way back. In the seventies, station wagons used to have fold down bench seats in the storage area of the back end. We loved those seats, regardless of what direction we were facing as the temporary tenement on wheels barreled down the the hazy hot highways of Arizona. If we were grocery shopping they were folded down and we just bounced around on the middle seat. Seat belts were not required. I don't actually remember seat belts being IN the car. I know we never used them if they were there.

But on road trips, almost every weekend, open up those way back seats and we were in hog heaven. All we needed was a stop at a convenience store, a package of white bread and hot dogs, a few cans of soda, maybe a stick or two of hard candy, and we were set to go. Load up the six of us, stash the hairy collie somewhere between kids and paraphernalia, and hit the road Jack.

Excellent exploring of the entertaining and epic southwest.

Except for taking turns in the way back.