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We are going to Myrtle Beach again, with my family, the ones that have taken me on vacation every year with them (and amazingly want me to go still, as an adult). Even though we never had lots of money, we barely had a decent vehicle to travel in, and it took an act of Congress for my Daddy to be able to take a week off from milking and farming, we went to the beach.
We never had any interest in staying in a hotel, besides we couldn’t afford it. So every summer since I could breathe, we have vacationed, along with my Uncle Mikey, Aunt Donna and their kids, in a campground in Myrtle Beach, give or take a few where we went to Florida or tried the hotel method. We didn’t like it much though because it’s hard to ride a bicycle up and down the hallways of a hotel.
To this day, those childhood vacations are my greatest memories yet.
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Moma and Daddy raised tobacco or backer as we call it, all through my childhood so that we could go on a modest vacation every year. When I was a kid we stayed at Lake Arrowhead, which was in North Myrtle Beach. For months we would anticipate the trip, we would make beach lists, wash coolers, me and Wes would buy a new tape and get fresh batteries for our tape player, we would stock up on drinks and candy bars, scrub the rust off our bikes with a brillo pad, and make plans for everything we were gonna do while we were there.
A day or two before we left, we’d excitedly wash and wax the truck, clean the windows inside and out and shine up the tires. Daddy would rig up some boards and plywood in the camper on the back and slide a mattress in. Moma would throw on fresh sheets and blankets, and then me, Wes and Trace would fight over who go to lay in front of the sliding glass window that let the cool fresh air into the camper. The day before we were supposed to leave, Daddy and Moma would pack that truck full of dopes, then we'd pack up our tent, tarps, chairs, veggies from the garden, coolers full of snacks and candy bars, blankets, beach towels and clothes. We would plan our outfit to wear for the ride down, and finally, Daddy would tie our bicycles to the top of the camper. When that happened we knew it was almost time to go!
It was useless trying to sleep the night before. All we could think about was the adventure of the ride down, all the fun we’d have while there and all the candy bars we were going to eat! So finally, one night, one of the grown ups had a great idea, TO LEAVE THE NIGHT BEFORE and just mosey on down the road. THE greatest idea since freezer jam, and a tradition we still keep today.
So Moma, Daddy, Mikey and Donna would load up all the kids, double and triple check to make sure everything was off and unplugged and locked, then we’d hit the road. East bound and down, loaded up and truckin! The kids rode in the camper, lying on the mattress propped up on our elbows for the best view ever. We were fully stocked with pillows, blankets, paper and pencils, toys, our blank tapes, and most importantly, our radio! We would scroll from station to station searching for our favorite songs, when we would find one we’d record it. That tape was treated like royalty and for the next whole year, simply referred to as “The Beach Tape”. The adults rode in the front with soft beach towels draping the upholstery, a water jug chock full of ice and good ol’ well water, their own little cooler full of Pepsi’s and Mountain Dews and candy bars, and plenty of peanut butter crackers and Doritos stashed behind the seat. They’d converse over the CB radio, dangle their arms out the windows and enjoy the sweet serenity of the kids in the camper, without a sliding window to the truck. Another great idea by the way. Our only source of communication was to tap on the window and holler what we needed, which obviously they could not hear when we were going sixty mph down the interstate, so finally we got smart and started writing it down on paper. I HAVE 2 PEE! When we’d finally stop at a rest area, we always ran in as fast as we could to pee, so that we’d have plenty of time to play before we got back in the truck. We would hog all the pay phones, pushing buttons and hanging up on the operator when she came on, we were intrigued by that machine that spits the cup out and fills it up with either hot chocolate or steaming coffee and we loved to chase each other around all those fancy flowers and paved sidewalks. Uncle Mikey always missed the exit in Asheville, without fail, and he always got us lost around Florence SC. And even though Daddy knew he would, he would let Uncle Mikey lead the way anyway because he knew that Uncle Mikey really enjoyed being in the front.
When the men got too tired to drive we would find a rest area to stop at overnight, and while the adults slept, we would run and play and laugh our guts out. Looking back, you could do that in those days, but not anymore. Early the next morning we headed out and kept our eyes peeled for Hardees or a McDonalds because we were always so hungry from traveling.
I can still remember the warmth and humidity of the summer air, the way the camper was shaped, where each rivet was and how it felt on my bare feet. I will never forget the comfort and softness of that mattress, when exhausted from singing and laughing we would collapse into sleep, and when we woke up we would be that much closer to the beach! I always knew when we’d reached Columbia South Carolina, from the long slender pines that reached toward the sky, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long now.
Our week consisted of lazy days on the beach, playing in the sand, building moats around our parents' spread of floats, sheets, chairs and coolers. When the high tide came in we would dig deep, and do everything in our power to keep the water away as long as possible, it was a challenge to us and we enjoyed it. When it got too hot we would all go out into the ocean and share floats, rising and falling over the waves. We'd try to float on our backs, tread water with our hands while sticking our feet above the water, dive under and feel around for shells and treasure and occasionally get stung by a jellyfish. At the end of the day we would be absolutely exhausted and slowly lug our coolers, chairs and floats back to camp. Make our way to the bathhouse and wash away the sand, salt and sweat of the day. Many nights were spent with the women cooking over Coleman camp stoves while the kids ran around playing. Sometimes we'd go out to eat, go to the strip to "cruise", while the kids sat in the back of the truck on folding chairs making fun of all the teenagers trying to look cool. We'd go play putt putt and run all over the course, climbing on stuff and acting like we'd never been to a putt putt course before. The more elaborate the better! Our putting clubs became fishing poles and tennis rackets and hockey sticks on those expeditions. At the end of the course we would always be heartbroken to lose our ball in that stupid hole. Finally one of my cousins figured out to put it in your pocket and just pretend that you hit the ball in. Thus our massive collection of golf balls we had around the house. Yeah, it was stealing but we were just kids from Bowmantown, we didn’t mean any harm. When not doing all those things, we kids would ride our bikes EVERYWHERE. We would play follow the leader, ride through peoples campsites, jump stuff and go to the Trading Post every chance we got. When it got too dark to ride, we would tape a flashlight to the handlebars and keep on truckin. Many nights were spent walking on the beach with a flashlight, looking for creatures and crabs. I can remember sneaking into the pool once after dark too, the only ones skinny enough to fit through the fence being me and my cousin Mick. We didn't go swimming or anything, we just wanted to prove that we could do it!
To this very day, the smell of original insect repellent reminds me of those trips, because in those days a big truck with sprayers jutting out from the sides, would ride up and down each road in the campground spraying for mosquitoes. Gosh, you couldn’t help but breathe the stuff for the rest of the day. Whether or not it actually controlled the skeeter’s nobody knows, but I am sure it wasn’t good for our lungs.
After a week of more fun than we could possibly handle we’d load it all back up and head for Tennessee, ready to show off our golden tans and anxious to waller our dogs and cats. And I never remember crying or getting upset over going home, because I knew we’d get to do it all again. Next year! And until then we had our Beach Tape to bring all those memories back.
Thank God for family and thank God for family vacations!
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