Valhalla Motel

Back in the 1960s when my parents would take us out on the road, we usually stayed at smaller independent motels. This was way before the proliferation of chain motels. In those days, indy motels were usually safe, clean and comfortable. During our travels we probably stayed at more than a hundred indy motels. As with so many things in life, the memories of the nice motels have faded yet those of the dumps remain vivid.

I’m guessing that the year was 1966 and our family was traveling from Baltimore to DeLand, Florida to visit my grandparents. On our second day of travel we on Route 301 were somewhere in Georgia and eager to find a place to stay. Dusk was rapidly descending and motel vacancy signs were not to be found. At long last, we finally stumbled upon a place with room for the seven of us – the Valhalla Motel.

My parents checked in and they were so eager for a room they forwent the nicety of first inspecting the room. The sight that greeted us when we opened the door is one that remains with us today. The room was quite small with barely enough room around the two double beds. The bathroom was tiny and despite the assurance of the sanitary seat wrapper the place was scary. Perhaps the most alarming thing for us was that there were shards from a shattered mirror scattered around the floor. We alerted the motel manager when he brought over the crib and roll-away cot.

We went out to get some dinner at a nice Southern restaurant a few miles up the road. I distinctly remember the gingham table cloths and curtains.

When we returned to the motel, the seven of us squeezed into the tiny room. If you can imagine a motel version of a clown car, you would have a good idea of what it was like. Actually, a better image is one of those number puzzles where you slide tiles around – in order for one person to move from point A to point B everyone had to shift around. One by one we eventually made our way to the bathroom with my mother cautioning us to not touch anything.

Bedtime arrived and we rolled in the crib and unfolded the cot consuming every last bit of floor space in the room. Heaven help anyone that needed to get up in the middle of the night! When settled into our beds, my brother Ray discovered the bed was damp. The window air conditioner was backed up and instead of dripping condensation outside, it was flowing back into the room and onto the foot of the bed. The lights went out and we did our best to get a good night’s sleep.

In the morning we quickly gathered our things and piled them into the station wagon. We were eager to be rid of the Valhalla Motel. Almost as soon as we were on our way we all started laughing about how awful that motel had been. In later years whenever we drove through Georgia, someone would eventually suggest staying at the Valhalla.

There are many factors that have contributed to the demise of independent motels. Perhaps the greatest is the risk of ending up at a place like the Valhalla. The chains, while more expensive, offered consistency and guaranteed cleanliness and comfort. We continued to stay at indy motels on our trips, but we also started staying at Holiday Inns, Ramadas and Howard Johnsons more frequently.

I often wonder whatever became of the Valhalla Motel. I’m not even sure in what it was located. I’ve searched the Internet and looked for vintage postcards on eBay. So far my search has come up dry. My guess is that the Valhalla Motel is now a monthly apartment strips like so many other indy motels.