This morning I was remembering the trip I took with Mom and Dad in the fall of 1971. We picked up a small VW 411 at the factory in Germany and drove to India. The trip took a month.
I got to wondering where we were on October 13th (today's date) so I pulled out the book of letters Dad wrote along the way. Strangely, I opened the book randomly in the middle -- and at the top of the page I read -- October 13, 1971, Kabul, Afghanistan! Dad's letter went on to describe a fall Mom took through a trap door while she was buying supplies, picking up a young American WT and driving him back several miles through a dust storm so he could retrieve a left-behind passport, crossing the border from Iran into Afghanistan, officials kissing Mom (which he did not like!), adding a border guard to our carload, and our night in a very strange hotel owned by the border guard's uncle!
The next day he goes on to tell about our flight to a mission hospital in the mountains and a stop in Bamiyan on our return.
The photos are Dad's.
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