Sherman's Travel

Long ago when I was eight years old, the word “awesome” was not used to describe vaguely impressive experiences. No one said, “Your new sweatpants are awesome,” or, “You have gum? Awesome.”

Back then the word was reserved for moments that actually inspired awe. So the first time I climbed the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and Abe slowly began filling my line of sight, that was awesome.

Fast forward several decades and several hundred miles northwest of Washington, D.C., to the beginning of May in Dearborn, Michigan, where Pure Michigan and the Detroit Metro Convention & Visitors Bureau brought me and a bunch of other travel writers to tour the Henry Ford Museum. As you might expect, cars, cars, and more cars of every make, model, and era are the stars of many of the Henry’s exhibits.

But the first display that caught my eye had a forlorn rocking chair, threadbare and stained with what I learned was hair tonic. A relic from one of Ford’s early automobiles, perhaps?

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