We spent three weeks in Mexico one year, too. Two weeks in Vera Cruz, and a week travelling back and forth in a motorhome caravan. It was an absolute blast.
Most of these states were visited when I was a kid, when my Dad worked for Sperry Gyroscope. We moved at least once a year, usually from one coast to the other, so I got to see a lot of the country. I can remember singing with my mom, dad, and sister (that was before she became such a pain in the ass) as we drove along lonely highways late at night. In those days, you could drive a hundred miles or more and never see another car. (No, this wasn't in the thirties! It was the sixties.) Dad couldn't carry a note in a bucket, but that never stopped him from belting out "Shine on Silver Moon" or any of those other old songs.
That's probably one of my best memories of childhood, singing with my dad. I still miss him every damned day. Happy Father's Day, Dad.
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