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No room at the inn for family and Jeep

Homespun yarns


It was 59 below on the Alcan Highway, and they had no choice but to drive on.

Our three tots—Ricky, Linda, and Annette—were smothered in snowsuits in the backseat of our green 1957 Jeep station wagon. Checking on them, I was shocked to discover two cans of soda had frozen solid in the back seat.

It was New Year’s Day 1963, five travel days north of Los Angeles, where we’d visited my wife’s family. Now we were in the winter-locked Yukon Territory. Our usual eight day trip up the Alcan Highway to our home in Kenai, Alaska was plagued with problems this time.

Why travel the bleak Alcan on New Year’s Day? A brand-new school on North Kenai was waiting for me, its new head teacher,...

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