In 1970 Dad got orders for his last flight tour. The coveted Mediterranean. Home base, Naples, Italy. After two decades in remote Navy stations raising kids, this NYC girl, my mother, is going. I would have not wanted to be my father in that conversation. We pack up, again, take a Space Available flight over the Atlantic bound for Rhein Main Airbase, Frankfurt, Germany. They’re going to need a car. They buy a brand new Volkswagen Squareback. A Beetle station wagon. Robin’s-egg blue. 5-speed.
I would have loved to remember the dialogue. My mother’s eyes boring into a “helpful” salesman who has learned she’ll be driving it. “That’s not a problem mam? You know how to drive a manual transmission?” “Son, I’ve been driving stick since Christ was a yeoman.”
Dad flies off and a mom, a 16 year old girl, a 12 year old girl and a 7 year old boy get in a car. The opening line to a good joke. And it’s a proper adventure. The commander of this vehicle, Jean A. Ebbert, files her Flight Plan with the Appropriate Command Personnel (that’d be dad). She is going to take 2 months to get to Naples. Check the map. Frankfurt to Naples is a twelve hour drive. My mom is going to take two months.