In July 1975, clans from Asheville, Johnson City, Charlotte, Atlanta, Connecticut and New York agreed to tackle the road trip to discover whether this was a good idea or not. Families packed up their cars and began the boring trek to the outer banks of South Carolina, taking anywhere from six to sixteen hours. The six hour trip from Asheville wound through back roads and sleepy towns, some prosperous, some boarded up, all with thirty-five miles per hour speed limits. Interstates were a rarity, and even today travelling east across South Carolina means encountering many two-lane roads. Georgetown, SC, a picturesque fishing village dating back centuries signaled the last leg of the trip. Opening the windows to smell the salt air, Clara and Steve cracked open a beer to enjoy the final twenty miles up Highway 17. Roads were uncrowded, traffic at a minimum and the illegality of drinking and driving was not worrisome. One wouldn’t consider doing so today. This quirky habit ceased when the senior Bitters shared the car and the trip with the next generation in later years. Many remember the sweltering drive. Mimi wanted her dad to leave the windows up so people driving by would think they had air …show more content…
Our own private beach was situated between two jetties two hundred yards apart, similarly dotted down the beach, with neighbors no closer than one hundred feet on either side. The million dollar view was breathtaking, counterbalancing any inconvenience encountered by the cramped quarters. Standing on the porch, visions of swimming, sunbathing and playing on our private piece of paradise took shape. Children from one to sixteen were already shedding clothes and donning bathing suits in anticipation of the cool water awaiting