Pack up your toothbrush in your old kit bag and drive, drive, drive
On the road again/Goin’ places that I’ve never been/Seein’ things that I may never see again – Willie Nelson
IMAGINE GETTING sentimental over a Dopp kit. A what? A Dopp kit. For you people born post- Taylor Swift, it is a simple toiletry bag. I had forgotten I ever had one until a minor plumbing problem forced me to remove a box under the bathroom sink so the maintenance guy could get at the pipes.
Dopp kits were made popular by Charles Doppelt, a German leather goods designer from Chicago. Doppelt’s nephew and employee, Jerome Harris, invented the leather toiletries case, and the Charles Doppelt Company began manufacturing them in the early 1900s and coined the name “Dopp Kit.” Dopp kits became widely known during World War II when Doppelt scored a contract with the U.S. Army to provide toiletry pouches to millions of American GIs. Dopp kits were a hit, and the demand for them soared when American men returned home from the war.
But why get misty-eyed over one? Because it was my traveling companion for 20 years of selling medical books in 55 counties in Michigan and 44 in Indiana. Had I been John Steinbeck I might have written “Travels With Doppy.” It kept secure and handy all the things I needed to face each new morning in all the one-star motels I woke up in. When you’re working a straight commission job and paying your own expenses, you learn to cut corners. Being away from home for four nights meant you pretty much had to take your bathroom along. You could leave the commode, but packing the medicine chest and a couple of bathroom cabinet drawers kept me ready for any contingency — especially in Indiana, where I’ve stayed in towns so small the local multiplex theater had one screen and an Etch-A-Sketch. If you forgot an important item like a razor, there were no all-night drug stores to help you out.
Packing clothes when you travel by car is easy. Everything is a carry-on, from a garment bag for a second suit, to the cardboard box from the dry cleaners with five folded clean shirts. Think of all the things you use in the morning to get ready for work: toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, shaving cream, after- shave, shampoo, comb, deodorant. Maybe you’ll use mouthwash, lip balm, floss, a nail clipper, file, and tweezers. What about vitamins and/or supplements? Many motels I stayed in had soap the size of a Halloween candy bar and towels so thin you could see through them. So my Dopp kit included a full-size bar of soap, and I threw a soft bath towel in the back seat. Ear plugs were important, too. In the Sleep Cheap Motel in Alpena, Michigan, I was in room 212 and a train ran through 214. Even the “Magic Fingers” bed couldn’t lull me to sleep.
Another essential item was a “Janie dry stick spot remover.” Works great when you spill something on your necktie or shirt, which I tried assiduously not to do. Being on the road often meant a fast food lunch. Usually I was traveling between towns during lunch hour. I would stop at the golden arches for a quarter pounder with no pickles, ketchup, or mustard to slide out of the bun. Then I stuck my tie in my shirt, and shrouded my upper body with enough paper napkins to cover an aircraft carrier before chowing down.
My Dopp kit is made of top grain leather, has a waterproof lining, opens wide, stays open, and closes snug and flat so it doesn’t take up much room. When driving from town to town I kept it next to me on the front seat so I could reach into it for a breath mint, or if I needed a band-aid, or a comb for a quick grooming before my next stop.
Later in my sales career I worked for a company where traveling meant flying to big cities with major hotels that provided bathroom amenities. The Dopp kit went with me to Mexico, Canada, Bermuda, the Bahamas, most of the country’s major cities, countless small towns, and even to Europe. The luggage has been replaced, but not the Dopp kit. It is a small but significant piece of travel gear, a little repository of memories from La Porte, Indiana to Porto, Portugal. The leather is well worn from countless journeys, and there is still the slight scent of the aftershave I spilled in it. It is scuffed and scratched but every scuff mark tells a story of countless miles. It is a witness to the transient yet significant moments that defined my life on the road. In its simplicity it gave me the feeling that no matter how far from home I roamed, I was taking a little bit of home with me.
Contact Jerry at jerrygevase@yahoo.com
