Seven years old, in 1978. My mom's mother had been wanting to take the grandkids to "Florida Disneyland" ever since she first heard about it. Then in 1974, this new and groundbreaking roller coaster called "Space Mountain" opened up, and that sealed the deal for her. Why it took four years for her to build the bridge from "we have to go" to "we're going," you'll have to ask her. And since she died in 1995, good luck with that.
We took a three-vehicle caravan filled with siblings, cousins, parents and grandparents from central Illinois to central Florida, a distance of about a thousand miles. Did I say a thousand miles? Because it felt like ten thousand. We stopped every few feet for coffee or a smoke break or whatever. There was no air conditioning in our vehicles. My stepdad allowed only two kinds of music on the radio: Country, & Western. Mom was too cheap to buy food on the road so we ate bologna sandwiches out of the cooler.
It was murder.
Of course, when I entered Main Street USA and shook hands with Mickey, it was worth it!
SIDE NOTE: We stayed at Fort Wilderness, which marked the first and only time I stayed on-site; that is, until 2005 when Mrs. Homie and I decided to stay on-site. We will never stay off-site again.
ANOTHER SIDE NOTE: Every WDW trip I took, from 1977-2006, was accomplished by driving there. In 2002 Mrs. Homie and I flew, and we vowed to never drive again. Well, we're going in December, and guess how we're getting there? We're driving.