SEATTLE ZEPHYR

JOAN SHEPHERD

There was only one 1937 Lincoln Zephyr in Salt Lake in the '40's and it was our car. I was too young to realize the status of that luxury car but it was big enough to hold three to four kids in the back seat. It seemed grandly spacious compared to the rumble seat of Dad's coupe where we were packed in like sardines and sang out to the world, "You screarn, I scream, we all scream for ice cream."

This silvery Lincoln had a shiny metal bar lengthwise across the back of the front seat, which, I think, was intended to hold a blanket or something. Instead, kids stood up holding on to that bar and smashed their teeth into bloody smiles whenever the car made a swerve or sudden stop. Let's hear it for seat belts!

My father ran a truck line shipping freight from Utah to Arizona.  He purchased a new truck cab in Seattle and some of the family, omitting the youngest and oldest, made a trip in the Zephyr to pick it up. I was 7 or 8 years, the younger of my two other sisters. In Seattle, we stayed in a fancy hotel that boasted every room had a circular bay window with a view. My parents went out and left us in the room one evening with strict directions to be good and be quiet. I was particularly fascinated that they brought us the Sunday newspaper and it was only Saturday. How could that happen? Also, the room had a tiny kitchen hidden behind bifold doors, another miracle for me. We read the Sunday funnies and amused ourselves for a bit when the phone rang.

"There has been a complaint about the noise in your room. You will have to be more quiet." said the authoritarian voice of the phone. We were scared to death! Could our giggles be heard in the next room? We began to talk only in whispers, and only when necessary. We denied any problems when our parents returned and it was years later before Dad confessed he had told the desk person to call with that message.

The truck was delivered and the car loaded onto the empty truck bed behind the cab. We girls rode in the car considerably higher than the usual car on the road. My parents were driving the truck and we were not too far out of Seattle when stopped by the police. Apparently, the license for the truck was inadequate and rather than giving my Dad a ticket, the police allowed us to turn back to Seattle to get the right licensing. The problem was, we were on a narrow road with a river on one side. Now this truck with the car attached to the bed was long and it took a series of minuscule turns to make a full U turn. I was petrified we would end up in the river and drown. I still don't know how he made it or why he wasn't directed to a more open space to make the turn!  But we didn't drown and we made it back to get the right papers or whatever necessary and headed back to Utah.

We had been severely notified while in this heightened car overlooking everyone else, of the rules: Do not play the radio. Do not honk the horn. Either one of these would run down the battery and we would be in serious trouble. In addition for me, was the fact that I didn't exactly know how the car was fastened to this flat bed and who knows, a rope could fray or a chain break and the car would slide of in slow motion and our parents couldn't be warned cause we couldn't honk the horn and they could drive miles away before they noticed the car was missing with three little girls inside, dead or mangled into bits and pieces.

Less dramatic was how to let them know of our needs, like going to the bathroom. Mother and Dad must have been having a wonderful time talking without any kids to bother them and Dad was a determined driver setting exact spots of where to eat or get gas. Knowing his schedule might take more time than our bladders could hold, the oldest sister got the idea of making a note and holding it up to the windshield, praying that our parents would see it. Fortunately, she knew how to spell TOILET, wrote it in big letters on a piece of paper and we took turns holding it to the windshield. I'm sure Dad saw it right away through his rear view mirror but with his weird sense of humor, continued driving until HE was ready to stop and help us out of the car and off the truck bed.

We had to stay overnight someplace and all I remember was motel in a kind of woodsy environment. Dad again in his "Father Knows Best" philosophy  ... although that program hadn't appeared yet, decided we needed to depart very early in the morning leaving mother to get her daughters ready. It is still vivid to me, lying half asleep and mother putting on my shoes and socks, moving on to the next child and me taking them off because no one ever went to bed with their shoes on. The early morning was dark and cold. Obviously, we couldn't have heat in the car, so we were put in the back seat and Dad took one of the motel blankets to put over us. He left a note and a $10 bill. Now I knew the police would come get us for robbery even though I thought $10 was a lot of money but still, he took it without permission. But we made it home without Mom and Dad going to jail and us kids to an orphanage.

I would give anything to have a photo of six curious eyes of three girls peering out the window of the silver Lincoln Zephyr on top of a flat bed truck being driven by a man and a woman with smiles on their faces.

June 23, 2010