A Father-Daughter Road Trip and a 17-Hour Playlist
As Elvis and Paul Simon played on, a lifetime of memories was shared along Colorado roads
Whenever I hear the opening of Laura Branigan's song "Gloria," it instantly transports me back to my childhood of sweltering Australian summer vacations with my family. I hear her voice and feel like a kid again, stuffed in the hot backseat of the car with my brother, the drooling dog, and a mountain of luggage looming over us as we hurtle down a highway.
Mom and Dad, both big music fans, always had a radio or cassette player on and turned up loud. The Bee Gees, Paul Simon and Fleetwood Mac provided the soundtrack to our childhood, and I can't remember our home ever being silent.
As a teenager, I lived with my dad after my parents' divorce. We spent most weekends together at our country house a few hours south of the city. On Friday afternoons, we'd pick a couple of CDs, load them into the car, and sing our way down the highway as the suburbs transformed into rolling fields and unspoiled beaches.
We'd roll down the windows and sing our lungs out,"
Dad's greatest love was (and still is) Elvis Presley, and I think I knew the lyrics to his songs before I could walk. We'd roll down the windows and sing our lungs out to songs like "Heartbreak Hotel" and "Return to Sender."
Occasionally, a song would spark a memory, and Dad would turn down the volume and tell me a story from when he was younger. He'd describe the hysterics of the girl he took to a Beatles concert in Brisbane or how, in 1976, he'd mistakenly thought he could miss the Elvis concert in Tahoe and catch him another time. (Presley died in 1977.) I loved hearing about this era Dad lived through and how he'd experienced important cultural events I'd only seen on TV or read about in books.
'The Ramsays Take CO'
Last year, when he was visiting from Australia, we organized a five-day dad-and-daughter road trip through Colorado. I thought it'd be sweet to put together a playlist for the long days of driving, so I asked him to send over a list of his favorite artists to include. Our Skype chat pinged with his requests. "Elvis, The Traveling Wilburys, ABBA, Paul Simon and Joe Cocker," he wrote.
Before I emailed the final list over to him to check, I slipped in a few of my favorites and named it "The Ramsays Take CO." I was thrilled to see it contained more than 17 hours of our music.
A few months later, on a warm October morning, I met my seventy-six-year-old dad at Denver Airport. Slightly breathless from the high altitude, we hugged at baggage claim and headed out to pick up our rental car. I'd been living in New York City for eight years, and this was the first trip we'd taken, just the two of us together, since the late 1990s when we'd spent a rollicking Christmas on a small Thai island. I was excited to spend quality time with him again.
These were wonderful days spent together, creating precious memories I'll always cherish.
Over the next few days, our trip took us to Pikes Peak's dizzying heights and the breathtaking canyons of Gunnison National Park. We enjoyed wine tasting in Grand Junction and chilled out in the thermal pools in Glenwood Springs.
We ate at great restaurants and exclaimed, "Would you look at that!" every five minutes as we came across another stunning view. We stopped on the side of the road to take a million photos and stood together in awe at the overwhelming beauty of the red-rock canyons and mesas in the Colorado National Monument. These were wonderful days spent together, creating precious memories I'll always cherish.
"Turn it up, kiddo," Dad said whenever one of his favorite songs came on. We rolled down the windows of our rental car to let in the dry Rocky Mountain air as we happily sang along.
My Dad's Stories
As The Beach Boys waxed lyrical about bikinis and the cutest California girls, I asked Dad to tell me more about his life when he was young. I don't know if it was the relaxation of being on the open road or because I was now a middle-aged woman, but he generously opened up to tell me stories I'd never heard before.
While Paul Simon sang about his ghostly traveling companions on the way to Graceland, Dad talked about his brief first marriage to a woman I'd never met.
As we listened to The Rolling Stones' "Paint it, Black," he recalled his rebellion and the violent clashes he encountered with police while protesting the Vietnam War. While Paul Simon sang about his ghostly traveling companions on the way to Graceland, Dad talked about his brief first marriage to a woman I'd never met.
He spoke about 1960s surfing culture, the shockwaves of the sexual revolution, and the complexities of his relationships with his strict but loving parents. As we drove over a high snow-covered-mountain pass, The Traveling Wilburys crooned "Handle with Care" while Dad reminisced about his lifelong friend Bruce, who'd recently passed away from cancer. We talked for a long time about when they were young, growing up together in Brisbane, and how much we all missed him.
It was more of a conversation between friends than between a father and daughter. No topic seemed to be off-limits or too prying, and I loved hearing what shaped the man I appreciate and treasure today. Being welcomed to delve into his past was a gift, and I value how special it was to uncover a whole other side to his life beyond his role as my dad.
Being welcomed to delve into his past was a gift, and I value how special it was to uncover a whole other side to his life beyond his role as my dad.
In Harmony
On the last day of the trip, we drove back to Denver Airport along the interstate. I was sad our vacation and my time with Dad was coming to an end. It'd been so nice to slip back into the easy rhythm we'd always had, and it reminded me of all the fantastic fun we'd had together over the years.
As I skipped through a few songs on our playlist, looking for something upbeat, Elvis's "Suspicious Minds" began to play. I cranked up the volume, and we both belted out the lyrics.
I looked across at Dad and laughed when I saw how we harmonized together. We'd always been very close, but I realized something else had bloomed while we drove, sang, and shared our way through Colorado. We didn't need to climb mountains or do anything crazy; the highlight of the trip was being together amongst the beautiful scenery and connecting in a more profound and grown-up way.
All we needed was each other's company, an open road, and the old memories woven through the songs on a 17-hour playlist.
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