My last post where I mentioned riding in the back of my granddads truck got me to thinking just how much we rode around like that. People all off the mountain between our house and Riverton would talk about how they could hear us coming long before they saw the truck. I guess having a dozen kids singing and hollering at the top of their lungs really does carry down those mountain hollers!
Not only did we go to the flea market in Bartow in the back of the truck, we went all over like that. I remember we used to go all the way over to Virginia when we visited our Aunt Barb. On those long trips, the smaller kids had to sit up next to the truck cab, and the older ones further back, we'd still sing, and swarp and holler the whole way there. We seemed to always have a mattress to ride on so it was a relatively comfortable ride. I used to love to go to Virginia, because in those days that was the only place you could find Nibble with Gibble Bar-B-Q potato chips, which were my favorite ("Gibbles" are fried in Lard, the way Mother Nature indended, and are de-lish). During the trip to Virginia that I am referring to, I remember that my Uncle Tom rode on the tailgate and dangled his feet onto the road, and by the time we got to the top of Shenandoah Mountain, which is where the state line is located, Tom had completely wore off the soles of his shoes!
Not only did we go to the flea market in Bartow in the back of the truck, we went all over like that. I remember we used to go all the way over to Virginia when we visited our Aunt Barb. On those long trips, the smaller kids had to sit up next to the truck cab, and the older ones further back, we'd still sing, and swarp and holler the whole way there. We seemed to always have a mattress to ride on so it was a relatively comfortable ride. I used to love to go to Virginia, because in those days that was the only place you could find Nibble with Gibble Bar-B-Q potato chips, which were my favorite ("Gibbles" are fried in Lard, the way Mother Nature indended, and are de-lish). During the trip to Virginia that I am referring to, I remember that my Uncle Tom rode on the tailgate and dangled his feet onto the road, and by the time we got to the top of Shenandoah Mountain, which is where the state line is located, Tom had completely wore off the soles of his shoes!
Shenandoah Mountain looking toward Brandywine/Sugar Grove.
Another time, I remember we all loaded up in the back of the truck and went to visit my great-grandmaw Eva (Lawrence) Thompson. Grandmaw Eve (pronounced Ev), as we called her, was my dad’s mother’s mother. As usual, Grandmaw Eve heard us coming before she seen us, and by the time we got there she was standing out in the drive-way. As soon as we pulled in she said in her typically boisterous voice, “Well I’ll be if it ain’t the Burns Family, Diet Pepsi or Pepsi Cola!” She didn’t even wonder if we would want a pop to drink, I guess she knew kids well enough to just cut to the chase.
My Great-Grandparents, Opie & Eva Lena (Lawrence) Thompson
I can’t believe now that the law ever allowed kids to ride around in the back of a pick-up truck like that. We may have been lucky, but none of us ever got hurt from riding around like that and we all have lots of good memories from those days. I can't help but remember the independence I felt riding on an old mattress in the back of an old truck and leaning against a 100 lb. sack of cracked corn!! That's the stuff memories are made of! It seems like it was a better time and place then, and a world that I’d like to live in now, but as they say, “You caint go home again”.
I often rode in the back of the truck when I was little too. It is amazing that their wasn't a law against it-but none of us ever got hurt either. We too would sing-found a peanut, bingo, or some sad church song. And of course we would argue over some silly something that never mattered in the first place. I've even slept in the back of truck-without a camper-on longer trips.
ReplyDeleteYour posts are just great!!