Each summer, my family would pack up the pick up truck and head to the mountains. My Dad never cared too much for the beach. He liked the cooler temperatures of the mountains.
I enjoyed our ride up and back also. I was 16 and my sister Paula was 11. Dad had a 1976 Dodge Ram full size pickup truck that had a camper shell on the back. I had made the curtains for it. There was a flip up entry from the back and the sides had windows that rolled out for ventilation. Dad and Mom would ride up front and Dad would nearly freeze Mom out with the air conditioning. Paula and I might be a bit warm, but we were mostly comfortable. there was a 4 inch foam cushion that went 3/3 the length of the truck bed, covered with lots of blankets. We had the back window flipped up, the window open; a box of food near the back end of the truck bed, as well as a cooler.
Now, whenever we needed anything if Paula went after it, I would hold her foot or leg to make sure she was steady just in case Dad had to make any maneuvers and plus I was responsible for ensuring she didn't get too close the the back truck gate. We didn't want to fall out.
I would take books and had pillows to lie against and would read going to and fro the mountains. We would entertain ourselves. It was a lot of fun.
On this specific trip, we had stopped at a rest stop. Low and behold there was a bear that walked out around the people and was hunting for some grub. He settled on a trash can that caught his attention. I was walking around with my brownie camera taking pictures. I knew the last picture I took was a little too close for comfort for Dad and I heard him ask "Are you planning to get any closer?" "I think you're too close". (paraphrasing)
Here are the pictures. PS - Love th white Gran Torino or whatever it is....
It was foolish getting that close....
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