Going on holiday? Buy an old station wagon

We've always been a nation of recreation. Whether it's a trip to the river or beach for a picnic or weekend, Australians love taking a break.

We look forward to the weekend, especially long ones where we can pack the family car and leave our worries behind. 

Just about everyone has memories of going away for holidays when they were a kid. Wind back 40 years and only the very well-off could afford to fly interstate or overseas for the summer break. For us, our holidays consisted of driving to our favoured destination in the trusty family sedan (or wagon).

From the '60s to '80s, just about every family owned a car from the 'big three'. The trusty Kingswood, a reliable Falcon 500, or the roomy Valiant Ranger were among the most popular choices.

Way before SUVs hit the streets, families were content with these plain-Jane, no-frills sedans and wagons. 

The cars we all grew up with were uncomplicated, agricultural-like, and rusted easily. They lacked any mod-cons, but had real chrome bumpers that were tough. Mechanically, they were easy to work on and had plenty of room for work and play.

They certainly had their own character, and because we grew up sharing many special occasions with them, they now hold a special place in our hearts that bring back a flood of good memories.

When I was knee-high to a grasshopper, the summer holidays were the most exciting events of the year (apart from Christmas and my birthday, of course). The build up to the holiday was spent working out exactly what you needed to take with you: cricket bats and wickets, soccer, football or rugby balls, snorkeling masks and flippers, fishing gear, boogie boards and surfboards.

What should we take? Stuff it - we'll take the whole lot!

The other great thing about these holidays was that we went with the same group of families every year. This meant there were always other kids in the same age group as myself to hang out with.

To fit us all in we'd sit right at the back of the wagon.

Mum liked to be my Dad's second pair of eyes (aka back seat driver). She always made sure Dad saw any 'real' or 'imagined' impending danger. My Dad put up with it, but he did tend to grip the steering wheel a little tighter! For me, the only down side of the trip was that you would have to sit in the car with your parents and younger siblings for hours on end... "Are we there yet?" Some things never change! 

With the car full to the brim, we were on your way. Sometimes my Dad would take my cousins in our car. To fit us all in, we'd sit right at the back of the wagon. Obviously there were no seats and we were unrestrained. This was the norm for many Australian families from the 1950s right till the late 1970s!

No one saw anything wrong with unrestrained kids in a car with no airbags, seat-belt tensioners, traction or stability controls, crumple zones, or any of the other many safety features found in modern cars. In the early 1960s, we didn't have safety glass or laminated windscreens!

If you place a child in a car today without the correct safety seat you're looked at like some kind of criminal.

Our family chariot was the HQ Kingswood wagon with a 'red' 202cid and 'traumatic' transmission. The only option it had was front disc brakes and a radio! The radio was nothing to brag about either, it crackled constantly and had to be retuned every 50 miles or so to the next radio station.

My uncle drove an XA Ford Falcon with a 250 six-cylinder and his brother-in-law drove a beige Valiant Ranger with the mighty 245cid Hemi. I would constantly argue and carry on with my cousins about whose car was the best. Hilarious to think back on it now. 

One of my other uncles used something quite different as his family car. He was quite frugal in many ways and liked economical cars. His choice was a dark green (ex-army) 1973 Volkswagen Kombi

that he picked up from the government auctions. It ran on the smell of an oily rag and, always looking to get extra mileage, he used to turn off the engine when going down hills!

Part of the holiday experience was, of course, suffering heat exhaustion in those old cars on the drive to our destination. We enjoyed the 4WD100/40 model air-conditioning which, with four windows down at 100 km/h, dropped the cabin temperature to a cool forty degrees! This meant that most families simply sweated it out.

No one wanted to sit in the middle of the back seat, and so, a roster system was drawn up. Air-conditioning was a luxury back then, and only for the lucky ones. 

On those stinking hot days vinyl seats heated up to thermo-nuclear temperatures, and when your arse and legs touched the vinyl you shot up in pain and your head hit the roof lining. Gradually the vinyl cooled to your body temperature. Sweat poured out from every skin pore in a vain effort to keep you cool. I remember with the window down, the sweat turned cold and offered some relief.  

Many of today's freeways, highways and bypasses were non-existent back then. This meant that the drive was always long and tedious, especially from a child's perspective. I can distinctly remember the sickening smell of a hot vinyl interior as my Dad wove the wagon up and down steep ravines and cuttings, with me struggling to keep from wearing my breakfast. Stops along the way were a necessity. Unlike today's vehicles, which can almost travel from one capital city to the next without a fuel stop, most of the old cars drank like a drunken sailor. At least a couple of stops for petrol were required. 

Out on the wide open road, drivers passing each other would lift a finger off the top of the steering wheel as a gesture of waving. My how things have changed. I'm sure most of us remember some sort of break down along the way. Indeed, no trip would be complete without one.

The usual culprit for our car was a broken fanbelt, which caused overheating. Dad would pull over to the side of the road and he'd pop open the bonnet and wrestle with the radiator cap. Steam would be billowing out and we'd have to wait around for the radiator to cool down. This took ages and I'd be bored out of my brain. One time, he used Mum's stockings as a replacement fanbelt until the next service station. Funny thing was, the service station had a spare in stock when we got there.

Spotting cool cars along the trip, we would either stick our thumbs up if it were a 'Shaker' GT or Monaro, or give the 'V' for victory sign if it were a sporty Charger. Big-Rigs were my favourite: the contest would be who could make the truck driver blow his air horns the most. We'd be in the back, pulling our clenched fists up and down in the air, mimicking the pulling of the horn. My Dad would curse and swear, “What's the matter ya bastard!” thinking they were tooting at his driving. We'd be on the floor in the back laughing our heads off. 

One time, looking out the back of the wagon we saw a bright orange Monaro GTS approach us at lightning speed. In no time, he was right on our bumper and waited until the oncoming traffic cleared to overtake. He took off with the front raised, and the rear squatting down like a sprinter in full flight. That Monaro passed us like we were standing still. I was mesmerised and wished like hell that Dad would trade-in the Kingswood for a Monaro with bold stripes and a thumping big V8. Unfortunately, I was doomed to the confinement of the family Kingswood wagon for many more holiday trips, complete with a whining diff.

When we finally got to our destination I'd pat the trusty Kingswood on the bonnet and thank the car for finally getting us there. Back in those days we'd set up camp wherever we wanted, and folded down the back seat of the wagon which also served as our sleeping quarters.

In those days we'd fold down the back seat of the wagon which served as our sleeping quarters.

I remember one year, there were some families from interstate who came with a Vermilion Fire XY GT and a Purr-Pull GTS Monaro. We couldn't take our eyes off those cars and almost fainted when the owners, out of sympathy, let us sit inside them.

The next couple of weeks were sheer enjoyment and then some. With no television, electronic gadgets or games we got stuck into physical activities. Beach cricket, totem-pole tennis, swimming, boogie boarding, snorkeling, fishing, beach and rock pool combing and generally running wild were some of the activities we partook in. At the time, for us, this was as good as it could get.

Looking back now, all those quirky things we put up with are fantastic memories now.

What's your favourite family holiday memory? Let us know in the comments below. 

Source: www.SurvivorCarAustralia.com.au