Driving A Junker

I am pretty sure it was the spring of 1965. My Dad had died suddenly in February and it was only a couple of months later. It was a Saturday and there was some reason for some of us country folks to come to town. 


My sister was working in Minneapolis in these days. She was very good at driving a vehicle that would start and run. Beyond that these beasts were one step from the crusher. 


One prize she drove home was a 1956 Ford that was held together by patches of rust. This car burned more oil than gas. 


She had come home some time during the previous year when our Dad took one look at the tires and overall condition and insisted that she leave it on the farm and take the train back to Minneapolis. 


I had driven it occasionally and today I had convinced Mom to let us take it to town. 


I had tried many times in the past to blow it up by holding the gas pedal to the floor but it wouldn't rev fast enough to destroy itself. 


I met Gary Tuil and Roger Smith and while Mom was visiting Grandma we terrorised the town. 


Gary was driving. He was showing his ability to do spins on the ice covered parking lot East of the cremery. One of the maneuvers launched us toward a parked truck. With the skill of a race car driver, Gary stopped just as the right front fender connected with the truck's bed. We checked the truck and fortunately no damage. We praised Gary for his skillful navigating. 


We didn't notice that the collision had repositioned the headlight to an upward projection. 


That evening I drove Mom home. As we approached the house the badly realigned right headlight projected a beam of light toward an upstairs window. Mom noticed it and commented that she must have left a light on in the house. She had no way of knowing about the encounter with the truck or the way we had avoided Parkers Prairie law enforcement!