The Luggage Incident

Summer 1978

It was summer vacation! We were driving from California to Michigan. Yes, driving. Mom and dad both had much family there as it’s their home state.

With us five kids piled into the rear seats of the steaming pile, the brown station wagon’s affectionate moniker, and mom and pop rocking the helm we set off. The seating arrangement had the three older boys in the middle row of seats and the two youngest in the rear as these seats were somewhat diminutive in dimension. Where was all the luggage? On top of the car on the luggage rack tied down in a large weatherproof luggage ‘bag’.

Trip started smooth with a nighttime departure; the idea was that the kids would sleep through the night. To induce sleep the middle and rear seats were folded down to make a flat sleeping platform and we headed east. [Seat belt laws were different then.]

With the five of us kids laying down in the back in varying phases of sleep barely two hours into vacation dad pulled the car over. Seemed odd. We were in the middle of nowhere on the open highway and it was the middle of the night. The only light was the moon and occasional headlights of passing cars. We were deep into the high desert east of Baker. [Baker is east of Barstow on the way to Las Vegas. It’s blank territory. If you’re familiar with the area you’ll quickly concede that we were in the middle of nowhere.]

An 18-wheel truck had signaled to dad while we were still driving. Dad somehow managed to figure out that the signals meant that the luggage bag had been compromised and the contents were spilled onto the highway scattering clothes abundantly about. Plus the truck that signaled had run over our stuff, too.

I remember mom and dad exiting the vehicle to commence the dangerous task of running around the 2-lane highway picking up what clothes and luggage they could see. I asked mom at one point if I could help. She adamantly indicated that all the kids were to stay in the car. Mom and dad would come to the car with an armload of clothes, toss them into the car, and go back out for more.

The next day we went to a K-Mart and bought new luggage. My oldest brother insisted for the balance of the trip that his luggage was to stay inside the car. Write that off to the privilege of being the oldest. Request was granted for him alone.


With each passing year my siblings and I are continually happier with this memory. The inconvenience at the time of the luggage fiasco has by far been outweighed by the laughing and silly amusement gained with every recounting.

Thank you, mom and dad, for trudging forward instead of folding up the tent and canceling vacation that glorious summer of ‘78.
-klem