In 1923, school teacher Ned Wilcox, his wife, sister-in-law and brother-in-law set out in a Case automobile on a cross-country road trip in June 18th from Traverse City Michigan to Tacoma, Wash. on July 6th, eventually settling in California. Ned took the time to document his trip, but the manuscript remained hidden for 85 years ( Thanks Glenn A! )

2762 miles, 184 miles a day, 12 miles per gallon, an 8x10 tent and a 2 burner camp stove

read the whole story at https://www.hagerty.com/articles-videos/articles/2010/10/27/1923-road-trip-diary-End-of-the-road-Part-VII#PartI

They started out with a great plan, take a ferry boat across Lake Michigan, land in Wisconsin, and start out from there... sure cuts off a lot of mileage.

So, step one, Traverse City to Green Bay

step 2, take hwy 29 to Abbottsford

The night was rainy, the other campers included a motorcycle and sidecar from Boston, and the starter on the Case gave out.

then on to Minneapolis St Paul, where they joined the Yellowstone Trail

"Just out of Lemmon, S.D., we were stuck in a "gumbo hole." Gumbo is a composition peculiar to the soil of this section of the country; when wet it is just like grease, and a car, even with chains on, is as helpless in it as a rube on a polished floor. But an hour or so after the sun is out it is dry, except in spots where it is present in a larger proportion, and there it remains wet, black, slippery, and treacherous.

This particular hole extended clear across the road and was filled with water. On one side was a grassy ridge about a foot wide, and Lloyd figured that he could keep two wheels on that and get by all right. But about half way across, the wheels slipped off so that the car straddled the ridge and out momentum drove the front axle deep into it. In vain we tried to back out. 

A big Hudson Six that had camped near us the night before, came up, took our tow rope and tried to pull us off, but couldn't budge us. A boy came along on horseback. We asked him what he would charge us to get a team and pull us out. He replied, "Oh, about a dollar. I have been stuck myself." But the team was only a pair of half wild broncos and couldn't move us. It looked as if we would have to send back to town for a tractor to get us out.

 Just then a mud spattered flivver carrying three husky, sun-burned ranch hands approached from the west. They sailed straight thru the hole till on dry ground then stopped their car and came back to offer assistance. They had hardly made the offer when another car with three more ranch hands came up from the east. They swing around the first car, plowed thru the gumbo, parked their car on dry ground and also came back to help. 

You see, both of these cars followed the rule (and you may be sure that we did after that) "when you come to a gumbo hole, hit 'er square and hit 'er hard." One of the fellows walked over to the fence, kicked the wires loose from a post and pulled it out. Taking my camp ax, he split off one corner so that he had a small plank. We jacked up the rear wheel that was hanging over the ridge and put the plank under it. Then Josie got in and started the engine, the six ranchers, Lloyd and I lifted and pushed, the team pulled, and out we slid. 

We thanked our helpers most heartily, and they said that they were glad that they could help us, and they said it as if they meant it. As they piled back into their cars they all waved at us and shouted, "Good bye and good luck to you". Can you beat that spirit? Put on a khaki suit and strap some luggage on your running board and you have the key to the West."

If any of you are troubled with "loss of appetite” and would really like to get good and hungry, let me suggest that you arrange to take that trip up the east side of the Bitter Root Mountains before breakfast, and if that doesn't make you hungry enough to eat anything and also everything that is set before you, then you may well give up your case as hopeless.

https://yellowstoneinsider.com/2016/06/13/old-yellowstone-history-corkscrew-bridge/