Dirt Roads and Buicks

[Guest imported_MrEarl]

Thought I'd share a little story I came across in Sunday's paper.

I miss dirt roads.

Don't get me wrong. I don't miss them enough to wish we still had them, but every now and again I can't help but wax nostalgic over the trips I used to make with my mama and daddy.

Almost every Saturday morning, for instance, Daddy would interrupt my play to ask if I wanted to "go for a ride." The destination was invariably the same. We would head out of town and down a winding, dusty road to the moonshiner's house.

At least the road was dusty if it hadn't rained that week. If it had rained, and hard enough, the road would have turned into a quagmire.

I never went to a theme park as a child, but slipping and sliding along a muddy dirt road while my father tried to keep his 6-year-old Buick between the ditches had to be more thrilling than any ride Disney or the Six Flags people have come up with.

Once in a great while, we would slide off into the ditch, which would precipitate a lot of cussing on the part of my father. When that happened we would have to wait for someone to happen by and pull us out, usually with a rope or chain attached to their own bumper.

It's been a long time since I've seen a car with a bumper that looked strong enough to pull a 1954 Buick out of a ditch.

Sometimes, when the road was bad, instead of sliding into a ditch we might get stuck.

I'm talking mired-up-to-the-axle stuck. This precipitated a lot of blue language, too, but it was sometimes possible to get a car unstuck without waiting for help. There were several methods, ranging from placing boards under the tires to letting air out of the tires and using the rocking method, which involved going backward and forward, over and over.

Usually, of course, other people would happen along and help push a stuck car out of the mud hole.

The worst whipping I ever got was for laughing at a preacher who ruined his white shirt trying to help push my daddy's car out of the mud. The car did, indeed, skid out - throwing mud and grime and goo all over the poor parson who happened to be passing by and stopped to help push us out. I'm not sure if he would have stopped if he had known our destination, but the image of the poor preacher, covered in mud, was funny when I was 8 years old and it is still funny today.

Sometimes we would go for drives on Sunday afternoons, to enjoy the fresh air. Roll down the windows in a car these days and you'll breathe in enough carbon dioxide fumes to stunt a giant's growth.

There was one road we used to drive on that had a creek running across it. I'm serious as a heart attack, y'all. We would actually have to ford a creek in our car and sometimes we would have to get out of the car and wade across to keep our vehicle from bottoming out.

I keep telling myself that I'm going to load my family into the car one Sunday and go for a drive on a dirt road - if I can find one. I may even do it on a rainy, muddy day, and if I do, I swear, I hope I get stuck.

And if I get stuck, I hope a preacher in a white shirt stops to help push my car out of the mud. And if he does, and if I sling mud all over him, and if my son laughs - I promise I won't whip him.

* Darrell Huckaby is an educator, author and public speaker. Contact him at DHuck08@aol.com.

[Gene Brink]

Lamar,

If it is dirt roads and mud you want there are still plenty of them in Burke County around Girard. My wife's family is from that area and I've been to family reunions (in August of all times) a couple of times. Enjoy!

[rocketraider]

And there is nothing more Southern than a big outsized car tearing along a dirt road on a hot summer's day, kicking up a plume of dust that can be seen for miles...

Couple years ago I set out thru Pittsylvania County VA on my 1976 Ninety-Eight, armed with a DeLorme atlas and a full tank of gas. A joyride- nothing more or less, nowhere to go and all day to get there, and this county encompasses nearly 1100 square miles. Took out thru backroads I never knew existed, and found more than one state-maintained dirt road. Some of these roads were one-laners, literally thru cow pastures.

So what if the car was covered in dust by the end of the day? It washed off, and I can honestly say I enjoyed that trip as much as any I've ever taken.

[NTX5467]

Dirt roads in the country, going by people's houses that you knew or did not know then. The ruts, the washboards, the wood bridges with "runners" that you had to drive on, the side roads that went down off the main road and dead ended in somebody's front yard or cow lot. Yep, the paved roads were more "uptown" back then, but the dirt roads were the backbone of rural life.

Most of the ones around here had pretty deep bar ditches. That was part of what made them "all weather" back then. If you got stuck on the side roads, with less deep ditches, there might be a friendly farmer in his "puddle jumper" old 6 cylinder pickup or '52 Chevy car (that didn't have enough power to spin the wheels, much less jump puddles in the field!) that always could pull you that few feet to the solid road again. In extreme cases, he had to go get his tractor. Sometimes, this whole situation took place as you got over a little too far to the side of the road when you met someone coming the other way on the 1.5 lane roadway. You soon learned just how far to go to the right without getting stuck and causing yourself problems as you tried to be nice to somebody else.

Rolling down the windows was the only way to travel, and also cranking open the vent windows too. I liked to watch the dust swirls too. Seemed to be a 55 gallon barrel-size swirl rolling toward the center of the car from each side in our '56 Plymouth (maybe the smaller tail fins helped this situation?), which met the flat dust trail from under the car. Our '51 GMC pickup didn't put up such a uniform or pretty dust trail. And, of course, the dust and mud and such washed off pretty easily with just a cold water hose. Simpler joys from much simpler times!

And of course the Buicks usually rode a little smoother than the cheaper cars too! If you met somebody on the side roads in a "more important" car, you had to go a little farther to the right to get out of their way. Heaven forbid that two Cadillacs would meet on one of those roads as one of them would have to scrape bottom.

Enjoy!

NTX5467

[96roadmaster]

I've taken my Roadmaster along a dirt road. My friends were in my car and bet that my car wouldn't make it on a 4x4 trail. Sure enough, with my ground clearance and careful driving, I made it across just fine, without any scrapes or rubs along anything. Keep in mind this was just dirt though, without any rocks or boulders.

On the way back out, I ran full throttle on the last 200 or so feet, getting the car severely sideways and blowing up enough dust to completely block all my rearview mirrors. One of those fun things that were great and the time, great remembering, but I highly doubt I'd ever do it again.

[gungeey]

Makes me want to take a run to the local gin mill...Steve

[Guest imported_MrEarl]

Good one Willis,thanks...

The following is not exactly a dirt road story but man oh man was the dust a flyin!!!

My earliest memory of a Buick was back in 1954 when I was 4 and my brother was 8 years old. One summer night just about dark, my mom kept naggin my dad with "let's go for a spin honey, just a little spin, come on..... It went on for about an hour and finally my dad hollered "EVERYBODY GET IN THE CAR, we're goin for a spin! We all jumped in the old 49 Buick Special. Our front yard was just dirt of which was kept swept with a stick broom and us kids played pig eye marbles in. In the middle of the yard was a humongous oak tree. Well, dad cranked the old 49, popped the clutch, dirt and dust started flyin, and off we went... spinnin around and around that big old oak tree. Must have been at least 5-6 times. Me and my brother just hangin on to the rope cord on the back seat and laughin our tails off. We finally stopped and after the dust settled and we got back on the front porch my dad said "Was that a good enough SPIN for ya?" All mama said was "You call that a spin?!!"

[rocketraider]

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Quote:</div><div class="ubbcode-body">Our front yard was just dirt of which was kept swept with a stick broom and us kids played pig eye marbles in. </div></div>

<img src="http://www.aaca.org/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif" alt="" /> <img src="http://www.aaca.org/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/laugh.gif" alt="" /> <img src="http://www.aaca.org/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/grin.gif" alt="" />

Now that brings back some memories. For some reason my Grandma Buckner thought that stick brush-broom fit my hands just perfectly. I was cleaning out a shed out there a few weeks ago and found one of her last brush-brooms- "bresh-broom", she called it. She preferred making them out of lilac bushes.

We also had a big snowball bush that I had to go get my own switches from when Mama deemed it necessary to stripe my hide. If I didn't bring the one she wanted, I had to go back until I got one she liked. I was glad when the thing died- I pulled it out of the ground with a Super A Farmall tractor.

My Aunt Merle used to try to switch my cousin Betty with snowball switches. Merle would grab Betty by the arm and lift her up a little off the floor to hold her for the whuppin', but Betty would pull her legs up under her skirt like a landing gear where Merle couldn't get to them.

Ah, memories. You wouldn't think a 48-year-old would reminisce that much about his Southern childhood, especially compared to the modern world. Didn't know how good I had it in a tobacco field.