My First Time in the Air

My relationship with travel didn’t begin with a corporate itinerary. It began in college—my sophomore year during winter break—when I stepped onto an airplane for the very first time to visit Sue Ann, who had relocated to California for a year. That flight wasn’t just a trip across the country; it was a quiet shift in perspective. The world suddenly felt larger, more accessible, and filled with possibility. I didn’t know it then, but that moment planted the seed for what would become years of work-driven travel that I genuinely loved.

When Travel Became the Job

When I started working at 3M in 1981, travel quickly became part of the rhythm of my life—especially during those first five years. I wasn’t just visiting places; I was part of projects that mattered, installations that drove real revenue, and teams that depended on being present on the plant floor. I was first paired with an experienced engineer named Tommy Davis. He was originally from the South Carolina area and like most southerners, Tommy was his middle name and that’s what he wanted everyone to call him. After a week on the job, he suggested I travel to Decatur, AL with him to oversee the installation a storage system for the product being made at the Film Plant. Probably 90% of my future workload would be for this plant.

That was my first experience filling out a travel request, having it approved by your supervisor, and receiving money up front for the trip. One detail that feels almost unbelievable today: credit cards weren’t widely used for corporate travel yet. Instead, we received cash advances. There was an actual person assigned to handing out money—on the 5th floor of Building 42. I can’t imagine how much cash was kept there. Engineers at 3M traveled a lot. If you were traveling for two weeks, you might request a couple thousand dollars to cover hotels, rental cars, and meals.

A report was required to be filed afterward to reconcile all expenses along with the receipts that you kept. And yes—walking around with that much cash in your wallet made a young engineer feel a bit like the big man on campus. Those years were exhilarating. I was young, trusted, and sent places. There was something empowering about that—being handed responsibility, a plane ticket, and a mission.

Germany: The Autobahn

One of the defining chapters of my travel life was Germany. Over about a 12-month stretch, I made five trips there as part of a major project involving equipment being built overseas. This was part of a $20 million dollar upgrade to the existing D3 line in Decatur. I was one of the team leaders on this project and that amount of responsibility at the age of 24 confirmed that I had made the right choice in working for 3M.

Flying "across the pond” as the phrase goes, was exciting. 3M had its own department to assist with obtaining your passport, including the picture. There were a lot of perks at the corporate campus at that time. I don’t believe any of them exist today, e.g. barber, on-site doctor, etc. Of course I could not relax on the plane enough to fall asleep during the flight and I paid for that dearly when touching down in a country with a 7 hour time difference. Like any long distance travel to the East, the challenge is to stay up that first day, even though you landed late morning / early afternoon their time and feel exhausted.

Driving on the Autobahn was unforgettable. I distinctly remember pushing the car to around 125 miles per hour, only to have other drivers in Mercedes Benz and Porsche sedans and sports cars casually pass me. It was exhilarating, humbling, and a little surreal. I did appreciate the rules of the road were strictly followed with passing only on the left, and left lanes being used for passing only. If only in America!!!

Outside of work, Germany revealed itself slowly and beautifully. One weekend, we took a boat trip along the Rhine River—castles dotting the hillsides like something out of a storybook. Another we took a train ride to Munich and stood in the square watching the famous Glockenspiel, sampled different beers, and different foods. I remember that the food was amazing and it typically was served in several courses. We even tried a traditional German bowling-style game—called Kegeln, or nine-pin bowling, where pins (kegels) are set in a diamond pattern with strings attached (like duckpins), and players use a smaller, finger-hole-less ball on a shorter lane called a Kegelbahn.

What hasn’t faded is the feeling: long evenings, laughter, cultural curiosity, and the realization that work could open doors to experiences I never imagined growing up.

Italy: A Slower Pace, A Shared Meal

On one of those German trips, I also had the chance to visit Italy. We traveled to the southern part of the country, to Caserta, where 3M had a plant. The visit was brief but meaningful—seeing a different operation, reconnecting with a friend, and sharing a meal.

Bob Jacobs was the plant manager in Caserta and he originally was in the Engineering group in St. Paul. One of the 5 trips I was in Germany with Dennis Freidel so we decided to take a tour of the plant and visit a friend at this home. The plant produced film like Decatur and it was interesting to see the similarities and the differences in the equipment. After the workday was done, Bob invited Dennis and me to his home for a meal with him and his wife, Jerilyn. I remember the meal was delicious and I remember that the terrace we ate on overlooked the Mediterranean so the view was breathtaking. What I don’t remember very well was the amount of food I consumed. Probably what a normal 20-something year old would eat. Right? More on that later.

Italy felt different. Quieter. Warmer. More rooted in community. It wasn’t about speed or production schedules—it was about people, conversation, and food shared without rushing.

Fast forward 10-15 years and I have been invited to a banquet to receive an award. It was local in St. Paul and had all the glitter and glitz of a Hollywood production. I was mingling about prior to the show beginning and who sees me from the distance? Bob Jacobs has since relocated to St. Paul and rushes over to greet me. Before we can exchange pleasantries, he insists that I say hi to his wife who is also in attendance. While we are walking to the table were they have been seated, she glances our way and I can tell there is an immediate recognition of me, Tim Rubash. I kid you not, the first words out of her mouth after meeting me once those 10-15 years ago, “Oh my god, you’re the engineer who came to our house and ate all that food!” So I can make an impression.

Domestic Travel: Design in the Summer, Install in the Winter

Not all travel was international. Much of it took me to manufacturing plants across the U.S., especially in Decatur and Greenville. Those were facilities I was directly responsible for, and I genuinely enjoyed being there.

There was an old saying back then: “Design in the summer, install in the winter.” It made sense. Alabama and South Carolina were a welcome change from Minnesota winters, and the work demanded presence. Plant life suited me. Compared to office work, you kept your own hours—but when equipment installations were underway, that often meant 60 to 80 hours a week. These lines produced massive revenue, and downtime was expensive. Improvements had to be fast, precise, and right the first time. It was a great deal of pressure to perform and execute the plan. In many cases, the project engineer made daily decisions to maintain the contractors schedule and budget.

Miles That Turned Into Memories

All that flying came with perks. Frequent flyer miles accumulated quickly, and back then, you got to keep them. Those miles turned into trips with people I cared about. I remember taking numerous family and friends to Florida and Hawaii. Work paid the miles—but life collected the memories.

Looking Back

Travel shaped my early career—and me. It taught me responsibility, adaptability, and confidence. It showed me the world beyond Minnesota, beyond college, beyond what I thought was possible.

I didn’t just visit plants and countries. I learned how work, trust, and opportunity intersect. And I’m grateful that those miles—logged in notebooks, expense reports, and boarding passes—became stories I still carry with me today.