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My cousin, who served in the
Korean Conflict, came home with a love, of all things, a Jeep. He was so
impressed with their ability to maneuver he bought two of them. One was a
plain blue but the other was an exciting bright yellow. We lived in the
country at the time so most of my driving was over the dusty roads back and
forth to the mail box, up to the bus stop in the morning with Mother beside
me, over the pasture, or up the long drive to our house.
Four in the floor made me
have to go from first down to second, then from second up to third. The last
gear change was straight down to fourth. One had to push the short stubby
gear shift up to the middle neutral then over to the right and down to
reverse. Driving a Jeep is the ultimate way to learn to drive an
automobile. The freedom gives an incredible feeling. In the summer the
doors were left off so it was a simple matter to hop out of the vehicle.
Opening gates for cattle made this a big convenience. Rough terrain was
just for laughs. I was never allowed while driving to run up and down the
river bed or down the tall banks of the river as my cousin did. It was
enough to be able to cross over a bar ditch or bounce out across a plowed
field.
A teen age girl driving a
Jeep into town to the country store was the greatest attention getter one
could have. Boys were reduced to begging in order to be allowed to drive the
vehicle. We children were always given trust, and if we did not disobey, our
privileges were never taken away. I knew no one was to be allowed to drive
the Jeep and I didn't even think of breaking that rule. “What! And give up
my opportunity to drive it? I don't think so.”
Later when I was older
running errands when we were living on Gramma's place in the country
allowed me the opportunity for learning to drive the folk's pick-up
truck. It was a new Ford but still had a stick shift. It was easy to drive
even though it was a large pick-up truck. Again, being careful not to break
any laws made it possible to keep my driving rights. One day the mistake
was made of turning left off main street in Ponca City which wasn't allowed
at the time. A cop stopped me. He seemed convinced with my talking and
apologies so didn't write a ticket. My folks never knew about that one. They
would have known though if there had of been a ticket involved.
The greatest story to be told
was the summer my uncle paid me to drive for him. He was a dealer in
artifact's and Indian souvenirs. He had a warehouse he filled in the winter
with hand made crafts from the Indian people. He kept in contact with the
folks who had shops all over the state. During the early summer was delivery
time. This was before tourist season started. Of course, he tried to cover
as much ground as possible with the deliveries. It was great fun to get to
see so much of the state in Oklahoma, Texas and some of Kansas. My Uncle
owned a new Buick and we skimmed over the miles so easily. He was completely
confident with my driving and usually napped, enjoyed the scenery, or
straightened his paper work. The open road was mine. It was a wonderful
experience. Uncle always wore his boots, Stetson hat, and western suit in
order to present himself as a serious minded business man. I, on the other
hand, was free to wear whatever. Those were the days before
air-conditioning in cars. Dressing like a tourist gave me the advantage of
comfort.
That was the summer I saw so
many of the beautiful resorts in Oklahoma from Thunderhead Lodge to
Spavinaw, Grand Lake, Claremore Gun Shops, Elk City and many more. If there
was a gift shop my Uncle knew the folks there. They always greeted him by
his first name and were glad to get the hand made Native American crafts. To
be paid for the experience allowed me to buy my school clothes for the next
year. The summer of 1956 was for beautiful memories.
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