Their journey went without major incident, but that didn't mean there wasn't a concern or two along the way. As me Pops tells it: "To save time and money, we'd only get a motel room every other day or so. Often one of us would sleep in the back of the station wagon while the other drove, just to keep a move on." There were few freeways in 1954, and things were far apart in the American west you see.
Dad was at the wheel one day while Jim caught some Zs. Jim had curled up into a ball and threw a blanket over himself and dozed off.
A little while later, Pops came across a hitchhiker. They were way out somewhere, no one or nothing else anywhere near them, and Dad took pity on the guy. He pulled over and let him in the car.
The guy seemed all right at first, but then he began talking out of his head, as Dad put it. Me Pops thought, "Uh-oh, what have I gotten us into?" He wanted Jim to be awake and aware but didn't know how to signal him without upsetting the hitchhiker into a frenzy.
The problem solved itself. Dad could see his cousin in the rear view mirror, and noticed Jim's hand slide out from under the blanket and grab a full pop bottle by the neck. He stealthily slid it back under the blanket with him. Pop bottles were glass back then, and could be very effective weapons. But for me Pops, the important thing was that Jim was aware of the situation.
Thankfully nothing came of it. It wasn't too much farther down the road before the passenger indicated they were at his stop. He thanked my Dad and left without trouble. Still, they didn't pick up any more hitchhikers.
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