It ain't the same today as it was in the good old days, that is at least as far as riding in a car. I guess maybe it was the novelty of just having a car when not everyone could afford one, or maybe the times were so much slower it was a pleasing change to move quickly. Living in the country our town Bathurst, New Brunswick didn't even have buses inside the town we walked everywhere or got a ride from Daddy in our car.

My first recollection as a child was of aunty Regina cranking her box like black car, this was a 1930 something model and I remember the awe with which everyone appreciated her ability to drive, and that's because she was a woman. Women didn't drive in those days it just wasn't done.

I'll never forget my first trip to Montreal as a child. Uncle Julius Litwin had a beautiful 1939 McLaughlin Buick with running boards of course and sloping fenders which he got second hand from Uncle Issie.

The pecking order was always Issie bought a new car, and sold his old one to the Litwins, who sold their old one to the Dalfen's and Sand's of Dalhousie where we lived at the time. The reason for this was that there simply were no cars to be had, it was war time and there were waiting lists and lines for everything in most cases you had to shmir (bribe) the dealers to get a car.

Well to continue with our story of the trip to Montreal, we stocked up on food which aunty Regina packed in a wicker basket, and my father, uncle Julius, myself, and I guess Manuel or Harold took off in the car. At the time Campbellton to Montreal was a very long trip so we slept over in Edmundston at the Hutman's.

Included in the lunch which was packed, were of course hard boiled eggs. Uncle Julius was driving, daddy sat next to him in front and the kids were in the back. When uncle Julius would have an egg, after daddy peeled it, he would sort of clap his hands on completion, to get the crumbs off and we kids would laugh ourselves silly as he would remove his hands from the steering wheel while so doing. "Do it again" , uncle Julius, "Do it again" we would shout, and uncle Julius always accommodated us with another hand clap and brush.

The car trips always included Daddy singing zionist melodies from his childhood ,and that's where I picked up most of my repertoire.

In Edmundston we picked up one of the Hutmans who came along to Montreal after spending the night there. Staying over at the Hutmans was an experience in itself. They lived above their store and had a bedroom without a door for an entrance, and the only way in was to climb through a window which we as kids didn't mind, a mattress was put on the floor and we slept as soundly as ever.

The trip was also made interesting by uncle Julius' stories. I recall on this trip him telling us about someone who on a long trip sprung a leak in his radiator, the car overheated and he was on a lonely country road. A local farmer suggested putting in cornmeal into the radiator which would plug the hole and get you to a garage. This was done and they drove off until they arrived at a garage. On opening the cap on the radiator "mamaliga" (corn meal cereal) started to pour out of the radiator. We all had a good laugh, but I'm not responsible for the authenticity of the tale.

Driving from Dalhousie to Campbellton was usually a two car excursion. Sands and Dalfens one following the other. We would cheer daddy on with the words "pass him daddy, pass him " as we went past uncle Morris, and I imagine the Dalfen kids did the same when they passed us on the highway.

Those were the days, when we really enjoyed a car ride.