With limited funds available for extras, the green used pickup my husband purchased for the ranch wasn’t anything to boast about, but the back was covered with a detachable camper hull with windows. Camping was something I’d never done. It sounded adventurous enough, I thought it might be fun. I had every intention of holding Evan to his promise of a vacation trip out West. If we camped out along the way, it should make the trip much less expensive and provide a learning experience for our three children.

Since he’d gotten his truck without me making a scene, Evan was open to the idea of trying it out on a cross-country trip. I’m not sure what I was thinking when he agreed, because I went a step further and suggested we take my mother along.

"You know how Dad is," I said. "All he wants to do is stay home. Mom loves to travel, but she never gets to go anywhere. She could sit in the back with the kids and watch them, and I could be in the cab with you, so I could help you drive."

Again he agreed, and Mom was delighted with the idea. She suggested we put a double mattress on the bed of the pickup, so it would provide a soft place to sit or lay.

Lest you get the idea that this was a fancy camper, let me assure you, it wasn’t. The double mattress took up the entire bed of the pickup so all luggage or food with be on it, as well as an adult and three children. There as no way to stand or move around. A simple white metal shell with windows fit over the bed of the truck and was the same height as the cab. In order to ride back there, one would have to sit or lie with legs spread out in front of them. Believe me, it was not the most comfortable position to be in for any length of time. These days, I doubt if it would even be a legal way to travel. Still, it was a cheap trip and something to break the monotony. My mom only thought she knew what she was getting herself into.

We lived in central Mississippi, and our destination was the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. Our time frame was one week. It was early May. School was still in session, and Carol’s first-grade teacher frowned on me for taking her out of class for a week. I figured she would learn more traveling than in reading about Dick, Jane and Sally. We packed our bags, a week’s supply of groceries, a small camp stove, sleeping bag, cooking pots, and two small tents and headed out on Saturday night.

We drove all night, and just before daybreak, we arrived on the outskirts of Dallas. Mom and the children were stretched out on the mattress in the back trying to sleep. We were congratulating ourselves on making excellent time, when suddenly we heard …Blump…blump…blump. Our mode of transportation had blown a tire. It was Sunday morning, and nothing was open. We finally found a service station and got a wrecker, but they couldn’t repair the tire. We had to hang around until after lunch in order to buy a new one. About two o'clock in the afternoon, we got underway again. Everyone's mood had deteriorated. Our three children decided this wasn’t such a fun idea after all. .

By five o’clock in the afternoon, we were exhausted and didn’t feel up to roughing it, so we stopped at a little town in Oklahoma and found a motel for the night. The next morning, after a good breakfast at a restaurant, we were refreshed and ready to try to get back some of our adventurous spirit. Before long, we faced the long drive across the Texas Panhandle. For a while, the children were interested in the tumbleweeds and the occasional roadrunner or jackrabbit, but Mom had her hands full keeping them occupied. They colored, fought with each other and tumbled around on the mattress, making keeping the covers straight impossible.

Our little adventure was becoming more and more like the journey taken by the Joad family in Steinbeck’s "Grapes of Wrath." Exhausted, we stopped at another restaurant for lunch.

I took a turn in the back to give Mom’s legs a rest and realized what she had been enduring. The space was so tight, even the double mattress barely fit. There was no way to contact anyone in the cab, because two layers of glass, with open air between, separated us. In order to get someone’s attention to stop the car for an emergency or a potty break, it was necessary to wave frantically and hope someone in the passenger seat would finally glance back. The side windows were small and didn’t provide much air. The children were bored and had started on the chips and cookies, scattering crumbs across the bed. Lying prone on the bed was a horrible way to travel, especially with three children fighting with each other and bouncing all over you.

This was becoming expensive. We were only one day into the trip and already we’d spent more than we planned for the whole week. It was time to get down to some serious camping. We were determined to find a campsite by evening. Still, there were miles and miles of open country with a few tiny towns and no campsite anywhere to be found. We hadn’t even passed a town big enough to have a motel.

As we crossed into the north corner of New Mexico, just before sundown, we spotted a small roadside park. There were several picnic tables and fire pits, so we pulled in. A couple of other cars were there. One group was a family of five having a picnic. At another table, there were four sleazy looking characters with stringy hair. They were loud as they argued and laughed while sharing a couple of bottles of liquor. An old beat-up looking Ford was parked near their table.

We pulled in and got out to stretch our legs. Mom and I pulled out some of the food and put together a fairly decent meal. The men, who appeared to be in their twenties, kept glancing in our direction. It was unnerving, to say the least. Mom declared, "It might be dangerous to try to stay here. You mark my word, those guys are up to no good."

The family finished their picnic, packed up and pulled away. We were considering doing the same, but then, the men got into their old car and also drove away. Their muffler was shot, and their car made a loud, unpleasant noise as it rattled out of the parking area. We felt very relieved to see them go.

This was obviously not the kind of motor park where people generally spent the night. There was a small restroom, but no bathing facilities and no staff around to monitor the place. We were all tired, and the countryside was so desolate it seemed pointless to go on. Our truck was the only vehicle remaining, and dark was upon us. Obviously, we weren’t about to pitch any tents here. We discussed it and decided, Evan and I would try sleeping in the back with the children, and we would let mother take her sleeping bag and curl up across the seat of the cab. At least, we could all be locked up for the night.

Evan looked in the glove compartment and pulled out a small pistol, which he had brought along in a brown paper bag. It was unloaded and the ammunition was in an another bag. He wanted it with him in the back in case we needed protection, but he hadn’t planned on the children seeing it. Around children, keeping things hidden is not always possible. When they realized their dad had a gun along, they freaked out. It dawned on them that maybe this trip involved some danger, and it took a while to calm them down.

In order to lock the back, it had to be done from the outside. Mother took the keys and locked us in before getting into the cab and locking herself in. We found sleep nearly impossible. Five people on a double bed doesn't make for good rest, much less sleep. In spite of the stifling heat and being jammed together, the kids did eventually drift off. Sleep was not in the picture for Evan and me. He kept turning the flashlight on to check the time. It was obviously going to be a long night. We heard a few cars passing on the highway, but traffic was light. At two a.m., things took a decidedly dark turn when we heard the unmistakable sound of the old Ford, with the busted muffler, returning to our area.

Evan and I sat up immediately, and he grabbed the pistol and loaded it. We started banging on the glass that separated our area from the cab, but it was no use because Mom couldn’t hear us. We were trapped. There was no way we could get out unless Mom unlocked the back with the key. It soon became apparent that she was awake, because she decided to start the truck.

Unfortunately, she didn’t know how. She turned the key, without using the clutch. The motor started but wouldn’t catch. The truck lurched forward and the motor died, all to be repeated over and over again. In addition to that, she repeatedly turned the lights on and off. What on earth did those men think was going on with us? Were they here to harm us? Maybe they were. We’ll never know, because after about thirty minutes, they drove away. The long night eventually ended with only the children getting any sleep.

The next morning, Mother came back and released us from our prison. She assured us that she had saved our lives, because she had frightened the men away with her futile attempts to start the truck. Evan vowed this would be his last attempt at camping. From now on, we would stay in motels, no matter what they cost. I was surprised he didn’t insist on going back home immediately.

We continued our trip and put the idea of camping behind us. We concluded that we weren’t suited for the great outdoors. Since we had never been there before, we were in awe of the Rockies. But poor Mom almost had a heart attack trying to climb the steps to the restaurant at Pike’s Peak. The thin mountain air caed her blood pressure to drop, and she came close to passing out.

Once after we’d paid for Mom’s breakfast at a restaurant, she insisted on buying everyone ice cream. Of course, no one wanted it after just having breakfast. She was stuck holding six melting ice cream cones over the already filthy sheets that covered our would-be bed. She finally crammed the whole sticky mess into a large mouthed thermos.

I would like to say the rest of the trip went smoothly, but with my mother and three children under eight, you would know I was lying. Still, nothing else that happened came close to being as hair-raising as that first Monday night.

When we got back home, we read in the paper about people being robbed and killed at rest stops along the Western highways. Mother said, "You see, I told you. I saved our lives." I wasn’t about to argue with her. Maybe she did. I figured she had suffered enough and deserve to be our hero.