Heather J.
Yelp
Aren't we spoiled for choice when it comes to restored and preserved historical buildings? We can clamber up into Edison's labs or sit under an 18th century windmill at Greenfield Village. Raining? Oh, let's just traipse through 300 years in the Streets of Detroit at the historical museum.
Then there's Crossroads Village, which gives a glimpse to city and rural life outside the Tri-County area. An hour north in an attractive parklike setting around Flint, Crossroads Village all but steps out of time in a forested setting around a lake. My first visit, I could hardly believe how close to the city we were. Park rangers and police direct traffic into the ample parking lots that fill up shockingly quick during any special event throughout the year. Visit on "Thomas the Tank Engine" Day or the spooky Hallowe'en train rides days to see how many people know about this lovely gem.
Tickets in advance are essential for your peace of mind and guaranteed admission. The 1990s-era website processes tickets reasonably well and overcrowding is rarely a problem, but selling out on a beautiful autumn day frequently is. Leave plenty of time for parking and walking; as noted above, you might be in a long hike to the ticket booths and a line even for prepurchased tickets.
Is it worth the trouble? Definitely. The Huckleberry Railroad is a scenic trip in an 1890s steam engine around the periphery of the park, offering great views in tiny seats comfortable only to our children. I hate to think how tiny my 19th-century counterpart had to be to wedge herself in there, let alone worry about her bustle. Nothing makes you want to diet faster than being squashed into a tiny seat with a wiggly toddler. The views and narration are fantastic, and the speed slow enough for little ones to really get excited about the next rattling bend on the rails. Strollers aren't permitted on the train. Conductors and staff help load everyone on and off quite efficiently, and a broad sweep of stroller parking helps everyone find their ride at the end.
The village itself hosts several different buildings from 1800 to the 20th century, ranging from a functioning printing press that might distribute cards at given times of the year to a lovely theatre and a working blacksmith. Definitely wander out to the cider mill in apple season to purchase beverages made while you watch, and destroy any tween's perception that everything in the village can be found at the grocery store. The flour mill does a fine job reminding them how lucky we are for mechanized factories, too, and you can pick up flour ground on site for a neat souvenir.
Farm animals are usually found in the paddock and placid cows accept friendly nose rubs and pats from overly enthusiastic little hands -- when supervised -- most of the year. A trip up the steep slope (keep the buggy at the bottom) into the barn reveals some really impressive old-fashioned cars, sleighs, and a "fire truck" that makes me grateful for any sort of modern trappings and conveniences. Imagine hauling that thing out at 3 AM in a Michigan winter. No thank you!
A somewhat overpriced cafe hawks cocoa (usually hot) and coffee; sandwiches; and the occasional burger or ice cream if you didn't think to bring your own meals. Try to avoid purchasing anything here or in the white pavilion unless you are prepared for the high cost, given it's a captive market. Food quality is meh at the best of times.
The back end of the village features a paddlewheeler that wanders around the lake, a ferris wheel suitable for bigger kids, and a vintage merry-go-round. The merry-go-round is gorgeous and sumptuously decorated, and operates at absolutely breakneck speeds that left my little one clinging to Daddy and a horse in terror, my husband clutching a horse for dear life, and my adult cousin practically thrown off her steed because her feet didn't reach to the stirrups. (She's 5'6".) Years of equestrian practice did not prepare me for those jaunty horses zooming around at 20 mph or whatever craziness ensued. Would I do it again? Absolutely. Would my kiddo? Not on your life. (Not until he's 5'7" at least, probably.)