As a child of the ’60s, roadside stops were practically a sacred ritual. My parents would pile us into the old Vista Cruiser station wagon, where you could sit all the way in the back, facing oncoming traffic, for epic drives to Florida. The back trunk-style pull-up seats had about as much legroom as my shoebox filled with baseball cards, G.I. Joes, Matchbox cars, and my Batman utility belt, in other words, holy tight space, Batman; your knees practically touched your chin. Y