Groups > Our Fading History

Our neighbor lady was in her late 70's when we purchased our home. We would get her mail and daily newspaper for her so she wouldn't have to walk the long drive to her mailbox. Inside her house, she had pictures of her family's past. One of those pictures was of a 1928 Model A sedan. She told us they would go to town on Saturdays to take the eggs to the train depot to sell. With that money they would go to the local mercantile and buy needed supplies like flour and sugar. That, and church on Sunday, was about the only time the old car left the garage. In wintertime, if the roads were impassible, they would drive the Model A through the farm field to get to town. When they traded it in around 1950, it had about 2300 miles on it.

Pete, your story brought back childhood memories of simpler times. There were very few vehicles in the rural area in the mid-to-late '40's where I grew up. All the roads were gravel and we could hear a car or truck coming a mile away. To see a car or truck pass the house was something and set folks to talking about where the traveler might be going and what they were going to do.

My Dad had a lot of stories, one of which was about a time when he was a young man racing to get to work on time. Apparently, to avoid being late he crossed the railroad tracks directly in front of a train. When he got to work, a friend pointed out that his tail light was missing. It had been knocked off by the train.

I always wondered if that story was exaggerated until, at Dad's funeral, a gentleman who had been working with my dad stood up and told the exact same story. Apparently, he was the one who told Dad about the missing tail light.

Dad was suffering with Alzheimers when he died. Hearing that story at the funeral felt so warm, and reminded me of how truly funny, and occasionally risk taking my Dad had been in his youth. It made me smile.