Readers Remember

It was the end of a long, hot drive from Kingman, Ariz., on Route 66, and we knew we would be entering Los Angeles at night. Our friends had sent us a map of the L.A. freeway system, which consisted in 1960 of the San Bernardino, Harbor, Hollywood and Santa Ana.

Route 66 merged us into the San Berdoo, and we thought we had mastered the system.

Hours later we were still hunting for El Segundo, and the Harbor Freeway had never materialized. For a year afterward I refused to drive the Los Angeles freeways.

DAVE KASE

Palos Verdes Estates

My heart beat with all the excitement a 6-year-old could possibly muster to see the troops and tanks going right by my house on Magnolia Boulevard in Van Nuys. I didn’t know they were going to the South Pacific.

My friend and I watched fighter planes roaring over our very rooftops, chasing each other, practicing for adventure. We would climb up into the hayloft of an old barn in back of his house and talk about it all. Although we were small, we had roll-your-own cigarettes, which we smoked and then threw back in the hay. There never was a fire.

It never occurred to us anything bad could ever happen. For us, things couldn’t have been better or more exciting. And in case the bad soldiers did come, we knew just what to do. We read about it in Superman comics.

MIKE HALL

Thousand Oaks

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In 200 words or less, send us your memories, comments or eyewitness accounts of the 20th century. Write to Century, Los Angeles Times, Times Mirror Square, Los Angeles, CA 90053, or e-mail century@latimes.com. Letters may be edited for space.