If you don't count my visit in utero in 1975, my first post-birth visit was in 1983. My sister was 5 and I was 7. We drove down in our big old Chevy van. The van bears some mention, as it had NO WINDOWS in the back except for tiny ones in the rear doors, trimmed with fancy drapes with tassled tiebacks, and blue velvet rear seats that my father had inexplicably bolted to the floor facing BACKWARDS, because he thought that a back-to-back arrangement would make all four seats safer in a crash (!??!). My sister and I spent the entire 21-hour drive striving to avoid going stir crazy inside the van's wood-paneled interior, listening to Mom and Dad's Abba, Kenny Rogers and Tammy Wynette 8-tracks. The van had a booth-style table and benches in the back which could be quickly folded down into a bed, and in those days before seatbelt laws, my sister, Mom and I actually ate meals, played board games and did puzzles on the table as Dad drove, or even folded the table down and took naps in our "new" used sleeping bags, purchased specifically for the trip to WDW.
Behind the van we towed a used pop-up camper, destined for Fort Wilderness Campground. Once we set up and unpacked, the next 4 days were a nonstop blur of awesome attractions at the Magic Kingdom and this new place called Epcot Center. We returned to the camper every afternoon for a lunch of cold sandwiches, chips and fruit, and a nap, and then went back to a park to explore, with our dinner in my Mom's purse in a paper bag. (Buying food in the parks was decidedly not in our shoestring budget, but we didn't feel we were missing anything.) Other than showing up at rope drop, we knew no touring tricks beforehand -- we just figured them out as we went.
Every morning in the campground, I was awakened by the call of some kind of squawking bird. I so enjoyed those early WDW trips that to this day, when I hear that bird call (we must have them around here too, as I still hear them occasionally), my heart leaps with anticipation.