Sights & Sounds & Smells...

Thinking back to Bountiful in the late 50’s/early 60’s, I remember going on Sunday afternoon drives with Mom, Dad and the whole crew, out to the SLC airport to watch the airplanes take off.

When it was nice weather, it was Dad’s absolutely favorite thing to do with all of us and it certainly was my favorite family outing, too! I liked it because in a large family of six children, not all family activities are regular – standard - dependable or even fun – but this usually was!

We older kids (Karl, Kristi, Julie & John) knew exactly what we had to do to make this ‘watch the airplanes’ thing happen. On sunny, Sunday afternoons, if the boys behaved nicely after church and didn’t tease the girls…and if the girls didn’t scream a lot and provoke the boys…and if everybody changed into their play clothes quickly and helped get things ready,......then 1) Mom would pack a great lunch, 2) Dad would stay in a good mood and 3) we’d spend the afternoon and early evening on the grass by the chain link fences alongside the runways at the Salt Lake Airport.

Dad always took the same route. He always pointed out the same landmarks. And he always told the same jokes. In the mind of a 10-12 year old girl (that was me) whose parents and siblings were usually stuck in high gear all the time (that was my family), there just seemed to be a lot of non-stress fun wrapped up into this activity.

Our typical route to the airport would be straight west down 1600 south to Redwood Road. (This was the old highway south into Salt Lake City.) Dad turned left on Redwood Road and headed south through orchard territory. In those days, hundreds of acres of peach trees lined both sides of the highway. Then came the refinery!! All of us made a huge fuss over the smelly, gross, overwhelmingly noxious rotten eggs smell in the air as we neared the monstrous oil refinery in North Salt Lake. One of the boys would always be the first to ask, “Gross, what’s that smell?” 

Then someone else picked up a standard line of, “Wasn’t me.” 

Someone else, “Yes, it was.” ‘No it wasn’t, it was _______.” 

Then started the competition for who would be the first to see the flame at the top of the fire stack while the bantering continued about who made the horrible gas smell in the car.  We'd laugh and tease, laugh and tease, laugh and tease until somebody got their feelings hurt and started to cry....and then everyone was in trouble and we all had to settle down.

Looking back on it, though, the really funny thing about that whole scenario was that no matter how many times we were reprimanded for starting that joke…and no matter how much trouble we all got in….we still started that same whole smelly, teasing joke about gas every single time we took this trip. We never DIDN'T start up that conversation!

It was as if we kids had written this play together – and we all thought it was a hit – Critic’s Choice Award type of stuff! We memorized our lines well, we all knew our cues and when we got to that neighborhood down in Woods Cross and started smelling the noxious odor, the curtain went up and, well, you know, ‘The Show Must Go On!’

Once we were out of Woods Cross and had passed the refinery, Dad always took a right turn at North Temple and headed straight out to the airport. We knew we were pretty close to Dad’s favorite runway service road when we saw the little eating joint on the left side of the highway that had big letters on the roof advertising it’s menu….only two words on the slanted roof….they could be seen for miles and miles…and boy did we laugh up a storm every time we saw them:

DANCING…….…………………….SANDWICHES

Dad would ALWAYS ask, ‘Mother, are you hungry? Should we take the kids in to see the dancing sandwiches?’ And we’d all laugh until our sides ached. And if we came even within a mile of that little dancing joint and Dad hadn’t said that to Mother yet, then we’d all pipe up together saying, ‘Dad, say it, say it! C’mon, Dad, say it!!’ Another Critics Choice Award performance for all of us!

Then all of a sudden, in the middle of our laughter, Dad would take a sharp right onto a service road for the airport. Depending on what time we arrived, there could be as many as 10-15 cars already parked along the grassy edges of the airport fence with folks sitting on or in their cars. Weekends were really popular for folks of all ages to come stand up to the chain link fence – hang on for balance – and tip their head back, to watch the air traffic come and go.  Listen to airplane sound effects!

It really was a magic experience that every child should have! The size of the planes were simply unbelievable to a child and the roar of the engines was deafening! The instant Dad parked the car, turned off the engine and gave last minute instructions on appropriate behavior, we shot out of the car, no matter what type of plane was approaching - passenger, cargo, fighter, twin engine…and when the plane was directly over our heads…the boys jumped to the fence line while Kristi and I looked at each other and opened our mouths wide to make a high pitched scream into the air that lasted almost a minute and we thought no one could hear our screams over the blasting roar of the passing engine.

I remember our instant scream always irritated Karl and John. We'd have to dart away from them as they would try to catch us to make us stop. We weren’t supposed to ‘play wild’ out in public so after that little performance, Dad routinely assigned the two girls to sit on the hood of the car and the two boys to sit on the roof of the car. And we all loved our assigned spots! At least I think we did – I know I sure did!  Listen to airplane sound effects!

After we had calmed down, the four of us usually slipped one-by-one back into the grass to wander around and play in the grass while the babies and Mom took a nap in the car.

While sitting on the hood, though, I do remember leaning against the windshield next to my sister, Kristi and the two of us stretching our arms up into the air just as the airplanes passed overhead. Sometimes it felt like I could actually run my hands down shiny silver jets as they passed by. When the airplanes were still far off, Dad would remind us to watch the hatches open under the fuselage. He’d say, “Here come the wheels! Watch the wheels...watch the wheels roll down!”

When the jet planes were especially low and we could taste the exhaust from the engines trickling down to us you could hear Mother and quite a few other adults say to the children, “Close your mouths! Close your eyes! Be careful not to breathe the fumes!” Then somewhere in the distance Dad would hear a very special sound and he say, “Listen, here comes a Piper! Look for the Piper Cub! Who sees the Piper Cub?”

Dad would take the boys and walk around a bit. I remember images of John sometimes sitting on top of Dad’s shoulders and raising his arms high into the sky to try to touch the planes. I also seem to remember Kris and I helping Mother with the babies after naptime while she laid out the picnic lunch on the tailgate. I would dance around with little Irene in the grass while Kris usually played games with baby Gus. Listen to airplane sound effects!

After lunch, if anyone got really, really naughty and had to be disciplined, they were assigned to sit in the back of the station wagon – presumably to take a nap. Actually, that really wasn’t too bad a punishment because before we left home, Mother always had us throw pillows, blankets and a book or two back there with the picnic basket.

Also, the tail gait window was always rolled down and you could stick your head right out the window and look straight up into the undercarriage of the approaching aircraft without getting any bug bites from walking in the tall grass. And after a few minutes when no one was watching, a really smart kid (like I thought I was) could slither quietly up out of the back hatch window onto the roof of the station wagon without anyone noticing.

I could lay quietly on my back and just feel the thunderous engine roars turning into vibrations on the metal roof of the car. To this day, whenever I sit in a massage chair, I think of the Sunday afternoon airplane outings when I was laying on the roof of our old blue station wagon. If I closed my eyes back then, I could even feel the darkness of the plane shadow as it passed directly over me. Wow, what a thrill for a child! 

Although I have absolutely no idea what planes were really flying in and out of airports back in the 50’s, I did find some Google images of planes and a web link to airplane sound effects to share on this page that instantly brought back the sights, sounds and smells that are so dear to me from those Sunday afternoon outings. Rare moments of childhood bliss should be remembered often. Listen to airplane sound effects!