72 Hours

In jest, I have said, “It’s Friday! One hundred dollars in my pocket and a full tank of gas, let’s go.” In my youth, it may have been five dollars and a dollars worth of gas in my ’53 Ford. In the Navy, I may have had twenty bucks to hitch-hike from Norfolk; arrive home mid-morning Saturday; grab a few hours sleep; enjoy a night out with friends; sleep well the rest of the night; enjoy breakfast with family, and thumb my way back to Virginia. Bumming a ride was easy and safe back then – especially in uniform. On one trip home it was bitter cold. A guy with a load of West Virginia hams picked me up on the PA turnpike. He regretted dropping me off in the cold of Toledo so he handed me a mayonnaise jar of white-lightning. He said, “If it takes too long to get another ride, this will keep you warm.” Later with a milkman coming out of Pontiac, we talked about the cold and I told of my jar. His eyes widened and his Southern drawl became apparent when he said, “Reeeally? Can I see it?” He glowed and gave it the shake test. He would take me home if we could stop to have a taste at his house with the wife. It had all the formality of uncorking a bottle of 1961 Lafite Rothschild.
One memorable 72 hours started with a local charter flight operation advertisement in September of 1995. Round trip to Frankfurt for their last weekend of the season was going for 24 hours at $99.00, 48 hours for $199.00, and 72 hours for $299.00. It was a happy flight. All aboard had seen the ad three days before and now we were on our way. About six people took the 24-hour jaunt which gave them eight hours on the ground – enough for a shopping spree in Frankfurt. A friend and I rented a car and drove six hours to see my memorable Neuschwanstein Castle in Bavaria. Of course, we had no hotel reservations and with our late arrival, the Schlosshotel was full. At the posh four-star Vila Jagerhaus I meekly asked for a cheap room. Nein! But they had one suite left for a bargain. Wunderbar! A great German dinner with local wine and a good sleep in a luxurious room. In the morning we needed to get back to Frankfurt. Come to think of it, those 4,000 some miles to Germany were about as exhausting and time-consuming as the 600 some miles of thumbing home from Virginia. In my viewpoint, it’s the thing to do.