For the 'Old Coot,' Memory Lane is a two-lane road with cows and slow trucks

I was on a 12-lane, 70 mph highway the other day, six lanes going north, six lanes south. The way cars wove in and out was amazing. It was like being in the Daytona 500. I did OK, for an old guy. Did some weaving myself, though I felt like I should do what an 81-year-old is supposed to do; go to the center lane and stay there going, 45 mph with my left signal blinking. Just to add a little drama to the symphony between the lanes.

It's an ugly mess, compared to the road trips my sister and I took in the back seat of the family sedan, a 1950 Hudson Hornet, gazing out the window counting cows. Cows on her side versus my side. And, reading billboards, 20 feet in the air and Burma Shave signs at street level. There were only two-lane roads where we lived in those days. Even the major route through town, Route 17. The speed limit was 50 mph, but you could rarely go that fast for very long. Not when you got stuck behind a truck inching up a hill or a family in a Buick sedan taking a Sunday drive.

We were never bored; when the cows were gone, we played the Alphabet Game – be the first one to spot a letter on a sign, working through the alphabet in sequence. Alice’s Diner would start us off with an “A.” No matter how far ahead we got, the “Q” would slow us down. The first eagle-eye to spot an antique shop usually won, but a “Z” could be a show-stopper too.

Time went by quickly, between the alphabet game, watching and counting farm animals and the odd sites along the way, like a mailbox 15 feet in the air with “Airmail” stenciled on the front. Our dog spent the whole trip with his head out the window, his ears flapping in the breeze. Dad’s arm hung out his window. Mom made sure ours were inside the car. No seat belts, no air bags, no air conditioning. But we were lucky; we had an AM radio, tuned to a station that played the Lone Ranger and Suspense. The adventure in those days was getting there. I miss it.

Merlin Lessler, also known as “The Old Coot,” lives in Owego and is a frequent contributor to the Opinions section.

This article originally appeared on Binghamton Press & Sun-Bulletin: The Old Coot rides down memory lane in the Southern Tier