I will confess a love for the classic motels of the 1950s and ‘60s. If you are of a certain age, you will remember them. Typically found on state highways near attractions or resort areas, they were generally L-shaped, one-story affairs, often with a swimming pool and usually with a garish neon sign designed to attract travelers and noting “Vacancy” or “No Vacancy.”

The economic and leisure booms of the post-World War II years were largely responsible for the rapid growth of motels. By the late 1940s, almost 90% of travelers were behind the wheels of their own cars. Well-maintained highways had largely replaced rail travel, and Americans were on the move. The word “motel” combined the words “motorist” and “hotel.”

This was also the time when Americans’ love affair with automobiles began. To pack the trunk of the latest sleek offering from Detroit and head out for a week with the wife and kids was what many Americans looked forward to all year. When reaching destinations, they wanted their car parked right in front of their room, both for ease of unpacking as well as convenient access for local day trips. Maybe Dad also wanted to glance outside every so often at his shiny ride.

By the late ‘60s, many motel properties had multiple floors to increase revenue. However, many motorists still considered a first-floor “down and out” room a premium. They still wanted their car parked right in front of their room.

I still do when I can find it.

Fortunately, there are still a few single-level “down and outs” around. They are almost exclusively located on state highways through rural areas, although a few in resort and beach areas have been completely renovated to their former glory. If you drive on the historic Route 66, you will still find a few classic motels along the way. But increasing property values necessitating vertical buildings have all but killed motels everywhere else.

Several years ago, while on the way to Statesville, North Carolina, to pick up a Gordon Setter puppy, we passed a classic down and out just out of Asheville on State Highway 70. It was clean and well-kept, so we stopped for the night out of pure nostalgia. A block down from the motel was a southern catfish restaurant that would warm the heart of any Good Ole Boy, as well as assure the financial success of the local cardiovascular surgeon. It was a slice of nostalgic heaven right down to the red and white checkerboard vinyl tablecloths.

Back at the motel after dinner, we sat on the tailgate of my pickup and had a glass of wine while watching the sunset over the western North Carolina mountains.

After years of corporate travel across America, lodging in some of the finest hotels, it is still that simple night in that down and out I long for.

Sometime later this year, I will once again travel to North Carolina for another Gordon Setter puppy. With good fortune, old Maggie, the puppy I picked up in the same town nearly 12 years ago, will be along for the ride. If still there, we will overnight at that same old down and out and walk over to the Catfish House for our takeout dinner, including a plain hamburger for Maggie. More than likely, she will get a taste of my fish as well as we eat together on the tailgate. We will recall with joy how excited we were to meet her so many years ago.

Nostalgia ages better than the finest red wine.

Long live the down and out.