Camping with my Dad

My earliest memories of camping was a fishing trip that my friend and I went on with my Dad. We were about 6 years old and oh so excited. I had watched my brother get to go with his friends for years and now it was my turn. We helped my Dad pack up our red station wagon. Well, maybe we put one bag in the car and just watched the rest. We sat in the back seat playing the usual games that you played when on a car trip. Do you remember them? We would play the alphabet game where she had one side of the car to look out at and I had the other. We had to find the letters of the alphabet in order from the billboard signs along the road or any other signs that we saw. We got to our campsite and Daddy got us registered in. We got our “tent” ready  by folding down the back seat of the station wagon and putting the air mattresses down. Next came lots of blankets and pillows. We were so ready to have a fun time. It didn’t take much for us to fall asleep and dream about all the BIG fish we were going to catch. We spent the next day on the lake with our fishing poles. We were so proud of our big catch. Each five or six inch fish we caught was put on hooks and put over the side of the boat to hold them until we got back to camp to clean and fry up for dinner. Well, about that dinner. Daddy had put them in the water next to the motor and you guessed it no fish for dinner. The motor chewed them up. It was a good thing Daddy had a back up dinner plan.