In 1976, I flew to Kansas City, MO. It was my first time in an airplane (and I've only flown 2 times since then), and it's still the farthest I've ever been from home.
I was with Fred back then, and we met up with his parents there, who had made the trip in their RV. From the airport, we began our journey westward, stopping first in nearby Leavenworth, Kansas, where Fred had an uncle who was a colonel stationed at Fort Leavenworth.
Sadly, I don't really remember much about the trip, other than what I scribbled into a makeshift journal, most of which consisted of my feelings for Fred, and how happy/hopeful/frustrated/etc. I was to be with him. (I was 19 at the time.) The four of us were together in that camper for about 2 weeks as we road-tripped and RV'd our way slowly home, visiting with other relatives, and stopping at various national parks along the way.