After landing a new job earlier this year my daughter moved from Wisconsin to the Twin Cities. A recent trip to visit her in her new home brought back memories of the first time I drove in the Minnesota metroplex.

It was the spring of 1966 and I was an 18-year-old high school senior living in north central Iowa, nearly four hours south of the Twin Cities in the days before I-35 was completed.

I had a summer job lined up at the county seat radio station IF I could obtain my FCC license. In those days one needed a Third-Class Radiotelephone Operators License to perform basic radio station operations and needed to pass a Federal Communications Commission (FCC) test to obtain the license.

The exam was offered weekly in St. Paul, Minnesota. I was scheduled to start working the day I graduated so timing was critical and I needed to get to St. Paul for the exam.

Things were complicated by the fact it was semester test season. My instructors agreed to let me take my tests early so I could get away to take the FCC exam.

As I made plans to drive to St. Paul, my mother asked who I was taking along. Bless her heart, my mother did not believe people should travel alone, especially her still-wet-behind-the-ears eldest son.

I explained that my friends were going to be taking their semester tests but it was okay because I was fully capable of driving to St. Paul by myself. She was adamant: I needed to have a traveling companion.

When I reiterated my friends’ unavailability, she said, “Fine, take Gerald along.”

Gerald is my oldest brother. He’s three and a half years younger than me and was a high school freshman at the time. My mother was a strong-willed woman and Gerald was/is a good guy so I agreed.

After eating lunch (“dinner” where I grew up) Gerald and I took off in my 1955 Chevy. We followed U.S. 69 to Albert Lea where we picked up the relatively new I-35. We zipped into Minneapolis about the time of the afternoon rush hour.

We didn’t have rush hours in rural Iowa. Traffic was maddening but I had familiarized myself with a map of the Twin Cities. We were making progress until the car began running roughly. We limped into St. Paul and when I thought we were close to the Federal Courthouse we began looking for a hotel.

Neither of us had ever stayed in a hotel before and had done no research on prices or quality. Gerald spotted a hotel so I pulled into the parking lot. My first question at the desk was “how much.” As I recall the rate was around $20 a night so we took it.

Our mother had packed a Styrofoam cooler full of food which we lugged into our room and settled down for an evening of good eating and watching a television that received more than three channels.

The next morning, we ate our breakfast out of the cooler and I walked the several blocks to the Federal building. I was surprised at how easy the exam was and came to realize why those in the business called the Third-Class license an “idiot ticket.”

After completing the test I walked back to the hotel, picked up my brother and we headed south. Unfortunately, the car’s engine had not miraculously healed itself overnight and we had difficulty getting home.

We stopped at an automobile dealer in Lake Mills where a mechanic recommended a new fuel pump. That took the last of the cash I had taken for the trip but it didn’t fix the problem. When I stopped at an intersection the engine stopped and it was difficult to get it restarted.

I was familiar with much of this part of rural northern Iowa so the last 60 or so miles of the trip home we took gravel roads so I could slow down but roll through stop signs. (Fortunately, we did not come across any law enforcement officers.)

It all turned out well. Our mother was happy to see us upon our return. I got to spend a couple of days alone with my brother; a rare opportunity when you have five siblings. I passed my FCC exam and I began my new job a few days later.

Meanwhile, traffic in the Twin Cities has gotten a lot worse over the last 57 years.

Arvid Huisman can be contacted at huismaniowa@gmail.com. ©2023 by Huisman Communications.