By Donald H. Harrison

SAN DIEGO— Nancy and I and her father, Sam Zeiden, watched the Robin Williams' video RV last night at home, and I'm sure Dad might have wondered at the looks his daughter and I exchanged as the fictional Munro family suffered their various mishaps out on the road.  It was just that we were remembering the summer of 1982, a year when gasoline was cheap enough for us to pile Sandi, 9, and David, 7, and our poodle Sarki into an RV and spend nearly three months "seeing America.."

When it came to vacations, up to then, we were like the Jewish families that Williams, portraying  Bob Munro, described as going to Hawaii for Christmas and having the beaches to ourselves. Our idea of "roughing it" had been staying in a motel instead of a hotel, and we definitely did not camp.  But I had sold my half of a public relations agency to my partner L.J. Cella, and I wanted some time to just think about what to do next.  And who knew when we would have another chance?  Besides that, the kids still were pre-teens, meaning they actually liked the idea of spending time together as a family.

Oh, we had our misadventures. We still remember the Skelley's outlet where the food and service were so bad that the restaurant's name became our family code word for something really awful.  It's probably not fair to them; they might just have had one really bad day.  But the name has remained in the family lexicon long after the memories of the specific offenses have faded.

Others may think of Williams, Arizona, as the "Gateway to the Grand Canyon," but we remember it as the place where, only a few days from home, our transmission broke down and where we had to stay an extra few days while the garage there sent for an out-of-stock part. That's when Nancy suggested that maybe we weren't cut out for this kind of life, and the kids agreed with her.  I knew I had to do something to rescue the situation.

"No really, this is great!" I lied.  "Now, we can spend more time at the Grand Canyon.  It's one of the greatest wonders of the world!  We are so lucky"  So off we went to the canyon, and David looked over the rim, and burst into tears.  "It's nothing but a big hole in the ground!" he declared.  It was my fault, not his; I had built it up, and built it up, and nothing could meet the expectations I had created. Even today, we think of the Grand Canyon as that big hole in the ground.

There was also the time on a road near Mount Rushmore that we wondered if we could get through that low tunnel.  Should  we take some air out of our tires to guarantee clearance?  At that point, Nancy's cousin Jeff Goltz of Fort Wayne, Indiana, and his family were in a two-vehicle caravan with us.  Jeff got out of his smaller rig, surveyed ours behind him, took a sighting on the tunnel, and pronounced that we'd make it easily.  "No, no, Donald, don't!" cautioned Nancy.  "Really, you can make it," said Jeff.  I inched the RV forward into the mouth of the tunnel.  No impact.  A little more.  Yes, we were going to make it!  When we cleared the tunnel, there was Jeff, all smiles.  "How much room did we have left over?" I asked. In answer, Jeff showed me the distance between his thumb and index finger.  Then he brought those two digits even closer to each other.

Rural adventures, urban adventures.  When we got to Louisville, our young cousin, Keith Jacobson-Beyer, who was not  yet of driving age, hopped onto our RV to show us where we could park.  He led us through back alleys to the garage of their house.  In the Robin Williams RV movie, there's a scene of him trying to turn the big vehicle around in a similar space, knocking down garbage cans, pillars, fences.  That was the point in the movie when Nancy gave me the first, "remember that" look.

For every memorable misadventure, there were other memories of special family times together. When July 4th rolled around, we were in New Bern, North Carolina, visiting Don and Gayle Midyette.  Nancy and Gayle had corresponded for many years since they were Brownies, but had only met once before.  We put little chairs on top of the roof of the RV and our two families watched the fireworks light up the American sky.

Sometimes, when we were visiting friends, we'd pull the RV into their driveways, run the power cord to their electrical outlets, and save ourselves a day's fees at an RV camp.  Other times, we would go "primitive"; that is, we'd just find ourselves some spot off the road, and stay overnight. But on most days, we would stay either at a Good Sam's or KOA campground, where we developed a routine.  

As soon as we pulled the RV into our space, the kids would dash to the swimming pool/ recreational area of the campgrounds.  Nancy would get the barbecue going—we ate a lot of corn and chicken that summer—and I would make certain that the RV was level, and then hook up the water, sewer and electrical lines.  Then we too would head over to the pool area, where we could trade notes with other RVers.  Those who were coming from the other direction could tell us about the roads and campgrounds ahead.  There is a camaraderie on the road; people like the Gornickes in the Williams' movie are always willing to help you solve a problem, lend a tool, or chat. As it was for the adults, so was it also for the children: David and Sandi struck up acquaintances with other kids at the campgrounds.

I was intent on teaching the kids about American geography and history, making it a point whenever we were near one to stop at a presidential birth place, or at a presidential library.  After a while, I'm afraid, places like Mount Vernon, and the Hermitage, even the fabled Lincoln log cabin, must all run together.  "Dad," asked Sandi, "how many of these presidents were there?"  We used to have the kids repeat in the order we visited them all the states, provinces and districts in which we gave our family poodle, Sarki, an opportunity to piddle and to thereby mark them as his territory.  

In all Sarki (whose name in the Hausa language of Northern Nigeria meant "ruler") claimed  jurisdiction over 42 states, the District of Columbia and Ontario, Canada. 

There was indeed real learning going on in our RV, which was a 27-foot Southwind.  Because we were passing in and out of broadcast zones, we decided it was pointless to stay tuned to the radio.  Instead, we worked our way several times through the entire cassette collection of Beatles songs, turning Sandi and David both into permanent Beatles fans.  Whether it was "Rocky Raccoon," "Revolution Number 9," "The Fool on the Hill," or "Good Day, Sunshine," the kids knew them all, and I'm sure they still remember them today.

In the movie, the RV trip ultimately was the cure for a family whose members had been drifting apart.  It was an opportunity for them to have experiences that would last them a lifetime and to identify their real values. 

I can't believe that our cross-country RV trip was 24 years ago.  Watching the video RV made it seem like just yesterday. For all the other families out there, I sincerely hope that gas prices don't make RVs go the way of the dinosaur.