Recently my wife and I took a trip to Bend, Ore., for vacation, and I spent some time on the drive down waxing nostalgic for all the trips my family made when I was peering out the rear window all over North America.

We hit the road almost every summer, sometimes on day trips but more often than not taking a week or so and discovering a part of the country none of us had ever been to.

The summer after my twin brother and I completed the third grade, we took off for California to visit my aunt's family in Sacramento.

I remember driving through Coeur d'Alene, minus the I-90 freeway, then heading south and stopping to visit friends in St. John, Wash.

We all made the trek of Steptoe Butte, which was quite a hike. From the top, you can see for literally hundreds of miles in each direction if the skies are clear. I later learned that there had once been a hotel up there and it was consumed in a massive fire.

After a long trek through Oregon, we made it to the coast and drove through the Redwood National Park before arriving in Sacramento. One of my aunt's neighbors had a pool, so us kids got to spend days keeping cool and swimming to our heart's content.

We also did a road trip to San Francisco, and I remember cruising down Lombard Street, the picturesque street with hairpin turns that had a great view of the city.

I got to see Knob Hill and we also did a quick tour of Fisherman's Wharf.

When I was in the seventh grade, we loaded up and pointed it east. We drove through eastern Montana and dipped into Wyoming to get to our first destination, Devils Tower National Monument.

Our trip was in the mid-1970s, so the movie that made the site famous, "Close Encounters of the Third Kind," hadn't yet been released.

There was something about that majestic tower of rock pointing skyward that had a surreal effect on us all. I believe we ate lunch there and continued east, moving through South Dakota.

We were heading to Wisconsin, to visit some of my father's relatives on a dairy farm. Another day of driving through Minnesota, and we were there.

Soon we were off again, this time the destination was Indianapolis. We toured the Indianapolis Motorspeedway museum and got to ride around the track in a tour bus. That year's Indy 500 had just run a few weeks before, so there was still plenty of rubber on the track, as well as in pit lane, where drivers gunned their machines as they exited.

After a few more days of driving, we made it to our nation's capital, Washington, D.C, which was by far the largest metropolitan area I had ever been around, and I remember feeling like everyone there was crazy, since they were all in a rush and no one looked happy.

We hiked up to the top of the Washington Monument, walked the mall to the Lincoln Memorial, and toured the Capitol building.

Next was the Smithsonian Institute, which had a little of everything. Arlington National Cemetery was a sobering experience. We watched the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, and visited President Kennedy's grave, with its eternal flame burning brightly.

From there we took off for Canada, moving through Maryland, Pennsylvania and New York. We stopped in Niagara Falls so we could view a few million gallons of water being affected by gravity. It was real cool that they lit everything up at night with multi-colored lights. If I was a newlywed, I'm sure it would have put me in the mood.

I don't remember a thing about crossing into Canada, so it must have been 100 times easier than it is today.

We drove through Toronto, and it was the first time I remember driving on a six-lane freeway. We went north through Sudbury and crossed back into the ol' U.S. of A in Sault Ste. Marie, Mich. We meandered back through Wisconsin, Minnesota and North Dakota and returned to Montana, having survived all the urban onslaught to the east.

Years later I did a few trips to Canada with my dad, spending time in places like Lake Louise, Calgary and Medicine Hat. I don't recall ever meeting a Canadian that wasn't hospitable, and it is always such a joy to visit up north.

Wherever you're heading this summer, be safe and have fun - and make some memories of your own.

Jerry Hitchcock is a copy editor for The Press. He can be reached at 664-8176 Ext. 2017, or via email at jhitchcock@cdapress.com.