In the summer of 1970, my grandparents packed up the family station wagon and headed west on I-10 out of New Orleans. The destination was Southern California to visit my grandmother’s sister. It was the American road trip. Newly built rest stops with scenic views. Motels with pools polka-dotted with colorful patio umbrellas. National landmarks and natural wonders. And all this vivid imagery was captured on a collection of vintage family photographs I discovered many years later. I knew I had to paint these instant memories. I loved the compositions, the colors, the stray finger covering the corner of the frame. They were perfectly, imperfect, each one a thoughtful moment that my grandparents wanted to hold onto. It was a time when you couldn’t take a million pictures only to forget them seconds later.