When I was very young, my parents owned a light blue Delta 88 Oldsmobile. It was like this one, but the color was a sky blue. It was a classic 50's model: the tail light looked like the bottom of a rocket engine, from which--if turned to the side--the gas cap appeared to put ethyl or the highest grade of gasoline into the tank; the front bumpers were chrome, and the appearance was sleek.
It had a push button automatic transmission, which also led to disaster, because while sitting with my dad riding in the car in the front seat, I pushed the button for park. We were driving on the highway at the time--not the best for any transmission.
Since the car looked like a rocket, and since I also often enjoyed watching Flash Gordon on Saturday mornings, I would wait for the drive home on the highway at night. From the backseat, I would quietly crawl up and lie down across the back window ledge.
It was fun. I imagined flying through space and fighting with Ming the Magnificent, and gazed at the stars in the night sky. My dad didn't share my enthusiasm. It only happened twice.
And I understand it now too. My dad was worried, since I was at that time in the first or second grade, that I lying against that window would push it out and send me out the back over the trunk to roll down the highway. After breaking to a desperate stop twice, my father convinced me that I was never to do that again.
My grandsons are the same way. Their play involves much with imagination, and even if it has nothing to do with Flash Gordon, they still do fun things.
In this picture, Tommy waits for an interesting ride in a stroller. And when he stayed with us in Idaho Falls, Jack and Tommy played different things like this all day.
That also included when we were in the car.
Jack still imagines riding across the universe in an X-wing fighter. I whistle to imitate R2-D2 sounds, and he has me program the hyperdrive. Occasionally I become a Clone Trooper, from a time when they weren't bad guys, and sometimes I am Yoda, since I do a pretty good imitation of that too, as long as I don't do my joke. "You want, you should pull my finger, hmmmm." Grandma doesn't like me teaching something like that to Jack, and I agree. But I keep telling her that it's an opportunity to teach Jack about critical thinking as he considers the whole thing regarding cause and effect.
Returning home from The Hill Air Force Base Air and Space Museum, Jack wore a jet pilot suit we bought for him. We stopped in Malad at the Drive-In there, and he's doing fun things that he learned at the museum after having listened to some tapes of pilots.
We were waiting in our vehicle for the car hop to bring out our food, when we hear Jack: "May Day! May Day! I have to go to the bathroom."
The Drive-In was very nice about letting us take our little air force pilot into the employee restroom.
Traveling with grandchildren is just plain fun, as long as they aren't in diapers. I can't deal with changing those little surprises. I would gag and throw up, but I can do great R2-D2 and Yoda imitations; however, my Chewbacca isn't very good, although it makes all three of my grandchildren laugh hysterically. It's like a lion who gargles with Listerine.
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