From infancy until college, every July my mother and father packed us 4 brothers in an old Ford Country Squire. It was a 2,600 mile drive from Massachusetts to my mother’s homeland in St. George, Utah.

For this week on Interstate 80, my mother desperately tried to maintain order amongst 4 rambunctious boys. For us, it was an opening to the world.

LYRICS

Loading up when the setting sun is high,
With a canvas tent that never seems to dry.
Open up the windows, waiting for a sign,
Rushing past the history of time.

Every fork you meet in the road.
All confused, carryin’ a load.
Make a choice, forward you go,
Different place you wanna know,
Ohhhh
Oh oh oh

Lord pack my brothers, in an Old Country Squire,
Rhythm of the road, beating at the tire,
Time to wonder, where and why,
Cruising through forest, open sky.
Oh now, ooohhh ooohhh.

390 open, surge and roar,
A flying couch, that lifts, and soars,
Heading off to the Promised Land,
Home of our kin and the desert sand,
Desert sand.

Lord pack my brothers, in an Old Country Squire,
Rhythm of the road, beating at the tire,
Time to wonder, where and why,
Cruising through forest, open sky.
Oh now, ooohhh ooohhh.