by Tim Robinson

In the summer of '55 Disneyland opened to the world in Anaheim, California. We four kids were tv fans of Walt Disney's "The Adventures of Davy Crockett" series that year. That was enough to pique our interest in seeing more, especially my own desire for a coonskin cap like Davy's. 

Piling into a 1951 Chrysler sedan, we headed out pulling a borrowed 2-person vacation trailer. Two-person meant just that. At 4, 9, 11 and 13 we kids did not realize we'd be sleeping outside the trailer the entire trip down from Beverly Park to Anaheim and back.

But we did... and that was an adventure in itself. Squeezing three in back plus two adults and a toddler in front, was cozy but southbound we were.  We made several stops on the way. Portland, Oregon to see our grandma and grandpa, a few aunts and uncles and a side trip to Gold Beach before heading further south to Santa Barbara and eventually Anaheim. 

Being kids, we were also clueless about how to get there. The Pacific Coast Highway (Hwy 1 and 101) does just that. It follows the coastline from Oregon to Los Angeles. There are sections so narrow that the shoulder of the road above the ocean made our mom feel like a cliff dweller. Only birds dared to fly close to that edge.

This was summer in August, traveling in a car with no A/C and 6 occupants.Our clever dad acquired a vented metal box called a "Swamp Cooler". When half filled with water, the air passing through the vents would send the water-cooled air into the seating areas. It was hooked onto the passenger side front window where our mom became the spritz queen since the cooler was not perfect, often blasting a bit more than mist. She called the unit "OLD FACEFULL". It did work but required frequent stops to refill it on the 1400 mile trip to LA.

Our dad and mom were smokers in those days. Wing windows did help but it defeated the swamp cooler to some degree (no pun intended). It was warm. We learned a bit about dietary habits at stops along the way. I loved fish & chips. One brother loved cheeseburgers and chocolate shakes. Our mom liked hoagie sandwiches... Dad?, he liked chili. We soon learned what SBD meant as mother would admonish our dad while demanding an open window. Chryslers had automatic windows then and the driver had the only controls.

At the Oregon/California border there was a required stop for a foreign fruit inspection. Mom and Dad thought it was a good idea to leave our youngest brother Patrick inside the trailer, sleeping, rather than have him up in the front seat or back with us rascals. The keys to the trailer were in a dish on the counter inside. The inspector tried the door. It was locked...oops. Waking a 5-yr old and expecting him to reach the lock handle was at best a slim chance. The inspectors pried the door open, found nothing of import and apologized but those are the rules. We'll never know if Pat locked the door himself but Pat loves to sleep in locked trailers even today. 


Disneyland could not have been a better summer fun fling for us. Fantasyland, Tomorrowland, Adventureland and my favorite, Frontierland where I would find Davy Crockett.

The two days of rides like the Wild Toad (scared the bejesus out of my younger brother) going through a series of metal flapping doors in a jalopy rolling on track while suffering a variety of symbolic crashes from pubs to prison walls and ends by running headlong into a steam train from Hell. Fun if you are 9, not so fun if you are five.

There were special go-karts shaped like modern cars. To drive a car you had to pass the tall enough test. I was not. My brother was a terrible driver. I was awarded the hand brake for our trip around the AUTOPIA free wheeling track. It was fun until brotherproved me right. He failed to stop in enough time while exiting to the finish area only to clobber the car in front of us occupied by my oldest brother and our mom. Subsequent years later the two boys both proved me right again piling up real cars as teenagers.  

We left Disneyland exhausted but happy. That first 1400 was mostly uneventful. The trip back began with a bump and a clunk. On the road in front of Disneyland we had not traveled more than a few hundred feet out of the parking lot. The clunk was the trailer coming loose from the hitch and gaining on us. Our dad pulled over as we watched the little trailer peter out into a drainage ditch, leaning softly on its side. 

Somehow it had held for 1400 miles but decided that was long enough. The safety chains were not hooked up. Our dad thought they might be for snow and never having pulled a trailer, simply overlooked them. The safety pin was not pushed through the clamp. The resulting bump we hit coming out of the park was enough to boost the trailer from the hitch. 

A few good samaritans  stopped to help get the trailer upright, pop it back in place and hook up the chains too. 

We were lucky. Other than some loose silverware and books tossed about inside, the trailer had a small scrape on the outside; it was fixable.

Lesson learned as well as bring no fruit to CA., get car with A/C and put up no smoking sign inside the car and no chili for Dad. 

Oh,...sadly, I never saw Davy Crockett either. He must have been on a riverboat in another part of the park.Walt did not come out to see the mishap. He never knew we were even there. 

  But happily, I did get a coonskin cap.