Ringing in my head

In the summer of 1960, when I was 16 years old, my family took a vacation toward the Canadian Rockies.
By then we were living in northern DE, and we drove all the way to St. Paul in our ’53 Chevy.
It was the only vacation-trip my family ever made where the car didn’t break down.
My father never took care of our cars, and the ’53 Chevy, purchased used, was the newest car my father ever bought; purchased in 1954 with only 5,000 miles.
My hyper-religious father parked in a “no-parking” church parking-lot, loudly declaring the Lord would watch over our car.
From St. Paul we took the train up to Winnipeg, Manitoba; Great Northern Railway.

About 5 a.m. at the Canadian border. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

I remember the sun setting about 11 p.m., then dawning about four hours later.
It was impossible to sleep, plus we were in coach seats. Porters came by hawking pillows for 25¢, but my cheapskate father wasn’t springing for any such thing.
“We’re broke!”
From Winnipeg we took Canadian Pacific’s Dominion to Calgary, Alberta.
It was the week of the Calgary Stampede; the train was crowded.
It was the end of steam railroading on Canadian Pacific, so lots of inactive steam-locomotives were stored in Winnipeg for scrapping.

Canadian Pacific’s hotrods, Budd RDCs in Calgary, up to Edmonton. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

From Calgary we took Budd RDCs north to Olds, still on the prairie, about 100 miles east of the Rockies.
In Olds we were met by one of my father’s old Moody friends, a guy named Bastian. Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, wellspring of my father’s religious fulfillment. Bible-beaters.
Bastian had a farm about 10 miles west of Olds; he raised cattle and wheat.
They just got electricity, but still no bathroom or running water.
There were outhouses out back, and hot water was heated on the stove.
Water came from an old well under a broken windmill. It was pumped by Briggs & Stratton.
My sister and I would stay and help Bastian. My parents returned to Calgary, and took the train to Banff and Lake Louise.
We were there perhaps a week. Did haying and shot prairie-dogs with Bastian’s .22.

My parents return to Olds. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

The trip back was extraordinary.
Back down to Calgary in Budd-Cars. At least 85 mph — maybe over 100 — splitting the tall prairie-grass in giant waves. And air-horns that would wake the dead.
In Winnipeg we had to wait for Canadian Pacific’s Canadian, CP’s premier cross-nation passenger-train.
The whole day, enough time to take in a movie, Rodgers and Hammerstein’s South Pacific.
I was smitten. “Happy Talk”for the next 3-4 years.
“Younger than Springtime, are you.....”
“Bali Ha’i” with the wow-pedal on my family’s Lowrey electronic organ.
Then the train-ride back east to Winnipeg toward oncoming darkness in a thunderstorm.
The scenery was incredible. Table-flat desolation as far as the eye could see, and nary a tree anywhere.
At the edge of the horizon were prairie-fires, thin strips of flame lighting the horizon.
The Canadian had two Vista-Domes, and as a railfan I never left that dome all night.
Trackside signals were green as we approached, then turned red as we passed.
The next morning civilization, what there was of it out on the prairie.
The railroad ran parallel to the Trans-Canada Highway.
We were cruising about 60. As we approached a town, the highway would split off to go through the town, then return parallel to the railroad east of town.
Towns were marked by tall trackside grain elevators, visible in the distance.
My parents are both now dead; I’m 72.
But that vacation is still ringing in my head.

• “RDC” = Rail Diesel Car. The RDCs were made by Budd Company in Philadelphia. They were a self-propelled passenger coach, powered by two military tank diesels slung under the car-body. The RDC was an effort to replace costly commuter trains powered by locomotives. Often you’d see RDCs in multiple. They weren’t powerful enough to haul a train.