Do you remember the first car you rode in or perhaps your families first car? For me it was my Grandfathers car which I believe was a pre war British Morris with spoke wheels and running boards and painted black . The large chrome headlights sat atop the very curvaceous fenders and the name that car was given by my Grandmother was Annabelle . Automobile ownership was not that common in Britain at that time and in all his life I believe Grandad owned two and only for brief periods of time . Annabelle was our escape from the city to visit my Uncle who was a soldier at Windsor Castle or better yet, to journey to The Dark Country .
The Dark Country was named such by my Grandfather as it was some of the last wooded area’s in England and the branches of the tree’s blocked the sun making the narrow country lanes appear quite dark even on the somewhat rare sunny days . On the way to the Dark Country we would stop and visit old long past Gypsy camp sites my Grandfather once knew and picnic on the side of the road wherever cows or sheep might be near. Annabelle had been modified by a copper tube that ran from the radiator to coil up under the dash to provide heat. My Grandmother used it to reheat hard boiled eggs for the journey’s mid morning snack while telling stories of life during WWII .
I’ve had plenty of time to catch up on my reading as of late due to the seemingly endless periods of time spent in the waiting rooms of medical facilities. The most recent was a surgery center where the wife underwent yet another procedure and as waiting rooms no longer offer the entertainment of a stack of magazines I snagged a book off my book case to peruse while spending a couple of hours surrounded by phone users. The two hours with that book brought back once again a near lifetime of memories . Like the memories of the untold hours I’ve joyfully invested in obscure and dusty old used book stores around the globe where this book followed me home from and pleasant half hours choosing the evenings entertainment at Blockbusters video . The book that I took with me in order to shield myself from technology was written by a once famous travel writer and I’ve collected his writings since my first encounter with his works.
“In Search of England” by H.V. Morton was written in 1927 about the authors wandering around the English countryside in an automobile to visit places I myself have familiarity with though during the period of time of my Grandfathers younger days . Auto travel in 1927 required the spirit of the pioneer and I was captivated by his story . In the second chapter he describes his experience of witnessing the sad goodbyes and departure of a cruise liner from the docks of Southampton . Southampton was known as the City of Goodbye’s due to the amount of ships that took untold amounts of tourists and immigrants away from their homes and family. My Mother and I boarded a Cunard Line ship, the original RMS Queen Elizabeth on the very same dock that Mr. Morton described in that second chapter and left my Grandparents waving goodbye as we began our five day voyage to New York Harbor.
I recently found a web site with archived passenger lists of the Cunard line ships of the time that left that port . I searched the alphabetical listings for my Mother and I and to my surprise I found my Mother listed under her maiden name though she had been married for years and no mention of me at all. I still have the old passport with the departure and arrival stamps that are two days off of the official archived departures and arrival dates of that famous ship …. but I’m pretty sure I was on that vessel as I can remember it still. And I know … I just know…. I wasn’t an illegal stowaway …. at least I think that I know… that maybe I wasn’t …..
and on that note perhaps I might be one of the earliest Dreamer Kids there are and some fellow Americans would probably like to send me home ….
and I might just be ready
