It was a Schwin with 26-inch wheels. I was probably 8 or 10, and I guess Dad didn’t want me to outgrow it (didn’t even get a chance before graduating to three wheels). It was so big I had to pull it up to a fence then climb the fence in order to get on the dang thing. Could just barely pedal without hurting myself, if you know what I mean. After I learned to ride it I got to go to Larry Tripp’s house, which was about 2/10 of a mile up the road – up being north. First time, no one was there when I got there, which, unfortunately, I didn’t discover till after I got off the bike.
Larry and I would put playing cards on the fender bracket with clothes pins so they would stick into the spokes so it sounded like a motorcycle. We graduated from walking to being road warriors tearing up and down the Wellman Road. Don’t know who Wellman was either. We would collect coke bottles from the side of the road then turn them in at the Midland store, which was three miles south, at 2 cents per bottle to get a soda and candy bar each.
Then I got a 3-wheel Cushman scooter! 
It was different in that the two wheels were in front rather than back. Larry and I took the sides off and got a bit more speed out of it. Then we discovered the governor and took that off. Worked great until someone followed us going about 50mph and told Dad. Everybody knew Dad and Grandpa, and I was “Ren Shultz’s boy.” (I guess that is why I liked California so much – for the anonymity.)
The governor went back on.
Midland Store:
I found a 360 view! The storage facility in the background is “The Dehydrator” where Larry’s dad was the manager. They had a fleet of alfalfa harvesters that would cut our alfalfa, after our barns were full, then dehydrate it and make pellets to sell as cattle and rabbit food. As you turn around with the store on the left, there is a car turning right – that is the Welman Road. The dirt road coming back at you is the road to my cousin Ren’s house. The view of the car that appears to be in the middle of the road is the direction to Lawrence. You probably need to copy and paste the link.
Midland store was a general store/gas station. Dad and I would go there on Sunday mornings, when we were not working, pick up the Sunday paper then drive around the area checking on the fields he rented from other farmers. At one time Dad and Grandpa had 2,000 acres under cultivation. While we were checking the fields/crops we would also stop in at all of the homes of the old folks in the area. Of course “old” is relative and there is another story there too. Anyway, there was generally fresh, hot, homemade bread involved at those old folks’ houses. I loved those Sunday drives and credit them with my love of gravel roads.
Tripp’s barn:
When Larry and I were not on our bikes or the scooter, we were fighting bad guys in their barn. They still had an outhouse. They also had geese. There was one gander that was meaner than a wet hen. Larry and I got to do sleepovers a lot, and I always dreaded having to get up in the night at their house to pee because that damn gander would chase you to and from the outhouse.
Larry was 2-3 years older than I, and one year he got a ‘40 Chevy which we drove in circles in the pasture.
We actually rolled it one time. Crawled out, got their Farmall Cub tractor 
and pulled it back on its wheels, and cut more circles.
The 410 incident:
Dad had a Winchester 410 Double Barrel Shotgun, which I claimed as mine and still have. It kicked like a mule! It did not have a padded shoulder pad so the kick was harder than the 12-guage. One day Larry and I decided to get “our” guns and go up the hill to the old shack. It had a dirt floor and was generally falling down until that day when we kinda facilitated the falling down. We built a fire in a circle of rocks on the dirt floor, probably smoked a cigarette or two, shot some cans, put the fire out, and went home. Later that day, Dad came home and asked if we had fun shooting guns. I was not supposed to take a gun without permission. I played dumb, then he asked how the shack burned down. Jig’s up! Guess we didn’t put the fire out carefully enough. To this day I do not know how he found out about the shenanigans I was involved in but he always seemed to, usually.
Tomatoes:
One time about six of us got together for a camp out. The names will remain confidential to protect the innocent, if any of us were that. As my Dad always said, “If you have one boy, you have a whole boy. Two boys, and you have a half a boy. Three boys, and you have no boy.” If you need me to explain that, just ask.
We camped by Mud Crick, and it was dark and we were bored. We had eaten raw baby corn so would probably be doing the green apple quick step the next day. Then we found a garden with TONS of tomatoes. I do not know who had the idea (it was NOT me this time) but we each got 6 or 8 tomatoes and walked thru the corn field to the road. Bear in mind, this is a two-lane paved country road so not too heavily traveled. A car comes along and we were hidden in the ditch. When the tomatoes hit the car bumpers, it sounded like gun shots! Cars would slow, then speed away not knowing who/what was attacking them.
Until that one car. The story is that the passenger side window was down, and a tomato went in and hit the driver. I do not know the veracity of that tale but it sounded good then, well, and now, too. He came to a screeching stop, door swings open and this guy gets out. We scatter thru the corn field and run like hell. The attackers became the attackees. We escaped and the stories we told! Each of us were either one row away from the guy, he almost stepped on our hand, or some other wild tale. Whoever the guy was, he must not have known Dad because this is one event he didn’t find out about.
Learning to drive:
I learned to drive in wheat fields driving half-ton trucks, two-ton trucks, and Ford and John Deere tractors.
At least this is what the half-ton looked like in my mind.
This is more like what it really looked like. It had a flathead 8.
This is the two-ton beast I backed into the barn at Grandpa’s. It had a dump bed and would hold about 200 bushels of corn or wheat.
There was about 8″ of clearance on each side when backing into the barn. It is also the infamous truck that I rode in with Grandpa to the Co-op at least a thousand times. There is another story about Co-op trips to be told later, along with some stories about Grandpa.
It is also the truck that killed him. He was filling it with gas and it evidently was not in gear. It started rolling and he went to jump in to stop it. He was pinned between the drivers side corner of the bed and a tall vent pipe from the underground gas and diesel tanks. Broke a rib that punctured his heart. I was devastated.
Back to learning to drive: Before we could get our license, we had to drive up “the hill.” The white house, from which we walked up-hill both ways to school, was on a corner, and the road on the south side was a long steep hill (not the one we walked up to school). One lane. Steep. Gravel. Loose gravel. Of course, the vehicle Dad chose to test us with on the hill was a standard shift. Remember, I had been driving standard shift vehicles for about two years. MA hadn’t. As I recall, our task was to stop at least three times and start going again without spinning the wheels. I had no problem slipping the clutch and going without throwing gravel. [Grins]. MA had to try at least five times, as I recall. I don’t think Jennie had to confront “the hill.” Spoiled. [Grins].
The S curve:
It was a mile from the red house to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, and the S curve was basically half way between the two houses. One winter we had an ice storm, one of those days that were colder than a well diggers ass. The roads were covered with about an inch of ice. Cars were crawling along about 5 mph, then they come to the S curve. It was steeply banked on both sides of the S. The road was so slick and cars were going so slow they would get to about the center of one of the curves and if they didn’t have two tires off the high side of the road, they would just slide down to the ditch.
Dad and I got two of the tractors to pull cars around the curve. I’ll show the other later with a story about it.
One car actually slid down and ended up resting against another car, perfectly lined up bumper to bumper. We had to pull the top car sideways up the curve then pull the other forward.
This is an example of the things Dad, and any of the other neighbors, would do to help people in need.
Snow in the driveway:
It didn’t snow a lot at the farm, and a white Christmas was actually a rarity. One time we had about a foot of snow. I had Grandpa’s old grey ’53 ford 4-door with a 6-cylinder 
and MA had a sweeeet blue and white ’56 Ford Fairlane 2-door with a V8.
How I wish I had that car now!
MA was always the favorite. Straight A student and all. When I got to high school, the teachers would ask, “Oh, are you Michele Ann’s brother?” Then when Jennie got to high school, the question was, “Oh Lord, you’re not Guy’s sister are you?” Anyway, I was able to drive my ‘53 up the drive with no problem. I was probably 15 and had been driving for about three years. The first two years were in the fields cutting doughnuts in the trucks or driving tractors back and forth in fields or to the barn pulling hay trailers. At 14, I could legally drive to school and on farm errands. Anyway, MA came home and tried a couple of times but couldn’t make it up the snow-covered drive, which happened to be S shaped. I strut out, get in her sweet ’56 and make a run at it, don’t make it, back out and make another run a bit faster, make it past the ditch and mailbox, slide right then left then back to the right into the power pole about 1/3 of the way up the drive.
The Tornado:
We were all tucked in and snug in our beds when all thru the house went a tremendous roar like a freight train. Since the train tracks were three miles away, something was amiss. Seems that only Mom and I woke up. We went to the kitchen window but couldn’t see anything, so looked out the porch door, nothing there either. It was black as pitch out and had started raining again, so we went back to bed. The next morning we found the lawn furniture, which was made out of heavy wood like 2×4’s, in splinters all over the yard. The tornado must have been a small one and missed the house by 30 feet or so.
sunnyside53.com 