In an earlier post, I mentioned my dad’s 1956 Chevy which he hated with a passion. It was a two-toned blue car; it was really a pretty car. He called it a lemon because something was always going wrong with it. Once he got rid of it, he swore he would never drive another Chevrolet; but as it turned out, he did drive Chevys again.
Part of the story about Dad’s Chevy is another story about Maple Hill Church of Christ. One of the first preachers at Maple Hill was Donald Hall. He and his wife, Pat lived in Graves County and drove to Maple Hill every weekend so he could preach. Someone would take them home for Sunday dinner; they came to our house several times. Their first baby was a little boy named Gayle. Everybody loved Gayle and all us kids would try to sit with Pat at church so we could hold him. I spent time at their house too because Pat had a sister named Laura who was near my age. They were like family to all of us.
One summer, Don and Pat invited the whole congregation (approximately 25 people) to their house for a big picnic. Grandma Thomasson rode with us. Now, Grandma was a sassy thing and would tell you really quickly what she thought. So, we started to Graves County and had to drive through Kaler (which is near Symsonia). Just past Kaler are three little bridges that run through the bottoms; tree limbs and brush cover the road signs along that way. Unbeknownst to Dad, the State Road Department had been working on the road; and since the signs announcing that there were bumps in the road were hidden behind brush and trees, Dad continued down the road at the speed limit. Now, Dad knew where Donald and Pat lived so he led the way with all the other folks following behind him in their cars. There was probably a one-foot gap in front of the first bridge and Dad hit that thing going full speed. He didn’t see it, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have had time to stop before hitting it. I’m here to tell you that ole ’56 Chevy left the ground; Grandma Thomasson bounced up and hit her hip on the arm rest and screamed, “Here, what are you doing?” She wasn’t hurt, but I can tell ya, she was not a happy camper. I’m sure my mother had something sarcastic to say too but Cheryl and I were in the backseat with Grandma and we were trying hard not to laugh. She would have smacked the snot out of us if she had caught us laughing at her. The people in the car directly behind us later said they had never seen the bottom of a car before, especially while it was on the highway. Dad had to buy a set of new tires.
We finally made it to the Hall’s house in Graves county and had a great time with friends and family. Of course Dad’s episode with the bridge was the talk for a couple of weeks at church.
See ya next Wednesday.