One time, when the kids were somewhat older, their dad bought an old Flint Sedan that he eventually stripped down and converted into a spray rig for his fruit orchard. Ben, the middle one of the three brothers, had a Chevrolet flat bed truck and some how the three boys and I got that old sedan loaded onto that truck. We had to haul it the six or seven miles, back home, because there were no tires on it. The load was so heavy and so much of it hung over the back of the truck bed, that each time that Ben would go up a grade and give his rig a little extra gas, the front wheels of his truck would come up off the ground. I had driven my car and, for some reason, Bill and Jim wanted to ride back with me. After some pretty clever maneuvering on Ben’s part, he got the load home without mishap.

This all took place in the winter, and when we got home it was dark, it was cold and we were hungry, but we still had to unload the truck. We didn’t have a loading ramp or anything else to run it off onto, so we put a chain around the old Flint’s axle and around a tree; then Ben, with all of the power that he could muster, drove out from under it. It is amazing the amount of glass that they used to put into those old cars, and how little of it is left unbroken when one of them, without tires, is dropped about four feet, onto frozen ground. The broken glass was of no importance, because the body was to be scrapped anyway, but it sure did make an awful crash, when it hit the ground.