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Time travel

Subhead
Reflecting on a family road trip
Lead Summary
By
Brenda Winter, columnist

It was 1971. Or maybe it wasn’t. I don’t know. I was a kid and there were three of us in the back seat of a Ford Mustang with Mom and Dad in the front.
I sat in the middle.
I always sat in the middle. I was the middle child and that’s where I sat with my older brother on one side and my younger sister on the other.
The middle back seat of a Ford Mustang is actually a hump. I sat on a hump with no window access, the center of a sibling sandwich. (If it sounds like I’m complaining, it’s because I am.)
The back seat of the Mustang had lines. As in, “Don’t cross this line.” And, “Mom! He’s crossing the line!” Which was not to be confused with, “Mom! He’s looking at me!” or “Mom! He’s elbowing me.”
Why she never just left us in a cornfield I’ll never know.
Then suddenly it was 2019 — last week actually.
Mom and I were driving “the chase car” behind my dad and brother on motorcycles across eastern Minnesota. The younger sister was at work.
There were no lines, no elbows, no humps — nothing; just four adults enjoying the scenery.
Back in the day, “Look at the scenery!” was one of the commands my parents used when the elbowing and line crossing got out of hand. Now I actually wanted to.
Much has changed in 40 years.
But, for example, the attention paid to gas mileage has not changed. My dad is a gas mileage aficionado. In the ’70s we drove a VW van with so little power we often felt the need to get out and push.
Last week it was a VW Jetta wagon getting upwards of 50 mpg on the highway. “Not bad. But it can do better.”
Then my dad’s motorcycle broke down. It wasn’t a total breakdown but the throttle stuck wide open making the hills and curves of western Wisconsin’s Amish country a bit dicey.
Google led us to a nearby repair shop which — and I am not making this up — was attached to a greenhouse!
Yes, a motorcycle repair shop with an attached greenhouse. Thirty bucks to fix the bike and $12 for a plant, and we were on the road again …
… to inspect the welds on a farm implement display, to have ice cream, to tour an actual Amish farm and discuss the diesel-powered tools in a leather works shop.
And it was 1971, or maybe it wasn’t. I don’t know. I was just enjoying the scenery.
 

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