The look on his face was awesome. I told Andrew (AKA "Boy Wonder") that I was going to fly to Kansas City with a buddy from work, buy a '62 Chevy Suburban and drive it home. I've traveled to a lot of car shows with my career, and have done a lot of cool things--a few times I've been lucky enough to include the wife and youngster in the trips, but not nearly enough. And when they do come, I'm working most of the day and well into the night, so there isn't really much family time. But we still have fun. After setting up the trip with my buddy, something occured to me--a '62 Chevy truck with a 283 and granny gear trans is about as complex as a hammer and anvil; if something were to fail, if I couldn't fix it, having another motor head there with me wouldn't make a difference. Parts would have to be sticking out of the block to leave me stranded with this truck. So it occured to me that if I was going to buy a second plane ticket, meals and all the rest, why waste that on a friend when I could take my Little Buddy instead? So I cleared it with Mama Bear, and then set about keeping the wool over Boy Wonder's eyes for three weeks. I'd talk about how excited I was to be getting this truck, how much fun it was going to be driving it back across 1000 miles to home, staying off the interstates, and how much I was looking forward to some good Memphis BBQ. He like riding the back roads, and LOVES bar-b-q, and it was so much fun watching him as I talked about the trip--good naturedly rubbing it in while I did. Finally, the weekend before leaving, he said what'd I'd been fishing for: "Why can't I come with you?!" Sorry buddy, you've got school--can't have you missing school, you know. "You get to go on all the cool trips. I can miss school!" Sorry man, no can do. For one of his Scout acheivements, he has to plan a trip--which was the perfect opportunity for me to rub it in a touch more. "Hey, here's an Atlas--draw me a route from Kansas City to Joplin, to Memphis, to Birmingham, to home. Keep me off the Interstates--put me on back roads as much as possible. Here's a yellow high-lighter marker." That boy can flat handle a map, and spent about an hour at the kitchen table working the Atlas, labeling where the individual state maps were, and taking pride in the fact that he had made label tabs putting the maps in order, etc. so we could quickly turn to the proper page. Suzi packed his bag on Wedensday while he was at school, and we made a big show of talking about me being gone for the weekend. Thursday morning, I informed him that I had "forgotten" my camera at work, and needed to run by there before hitting the airport...and if we dropped him off at school first, I'd lose 40 minutes, and that might make me miss my plane...so he'd have to be late to school and ride down to the airport with us. "What about Alkire? Aren't you going to pick him up to ride down to the airport?" Um...(good point!) No, he's meeting us there. His wife is driving him. He was bummed about missing Math (!) and was irritated that he wouldn't even be getting to school before lunch. He was going to miss his favorite classes, and get there just in time for his least favorites. (Bwahahahaha!) When we got to the airport, we parked the car and he wheeled my suit case in while I carried an 80-pound box of tools and supplies. While we were standing in line at the baggage check, I asked to get a pic of him and Suzi--at which point she pulled his tooth brush out of her pocket, handed it to him and said "Here, you're going to need this," and then explained that he was going with me. Some sputtering, a little confusion, and then realization that it was HIS name on the plane ticket, and the whole thing about going with the guy from work was a very elaborate scam, planned weeks in advance, with no small amount of needling done by Dad along the way. The best part were the little details of conversations he'd remember for the next 15 minutes, realizing how far I'd gone to plan this whole thing.
We flew into Kansas, got a rental, and headed to Joplin, about 150 miles South. Along the way, we saw a sign for the Harry S. Truman Presidential Library. Gotta stop at something like that! He had just learned about The Bomb a couple months ago, so it was well-timed. After the museum, we headed down to Joplin, saw the truck, and made a plan for the next day: Plug wires, misc. stuff, parts off the parts truck, new tires, new fluids, Windex, RainX and head for Memphis. It was almost dusk before we finally hit the road for Memphis. He dug the truck a bunch.
beyond brilliant!!!!....I loved your first post and I love this story. You scored BIG points as a Dad. That photo is great - you can just see the head gears spinning..haha. Very well done.
wow -- his eyes are huge in that first picture-- i cannot immagine all the excitement rushing through his head-- that is awesome... keith
Great story, you're the greatest dad in the world to him I'd bet. Now can you type faster? I want to read about the rest of the trip.. CC
On Friday, we hit the road in earnest, and saw some great stuff: We got lucky, as one of the roads he had us on went by the Laura Ingles Wilder house--where she lived for 50 years with her husband Alanzo, and wrote all of the Little House on the Prarie books. The house and museum were closed, but they let us walk around. It was pretty cold, and the truck is more than in need of weather stripping--it was sweat shirts, t-shirt, jackets and hats the whole day. The heater gives a good effort, but it did little more than take the chill out. Every now and then, you'd hear a real fast/high rattle, like someone shoving a stick in a fan, and a penny would come shooting out of the floor vents. We'd laugh, imagining some little kid feeding change into the defroster ducts. Occasionally, there'd be the sound of confetti hitting the fan, and a bunch of leaf bits would come shooting out on the floor, good for a couple more chuckles. Somewhere--I've got their business car--we spotted a junk yard on the side of the road. A pair of '60 El Caminos got my attention. Stopping in, it turned out they had a '64-ish suburban, which generously donated it's door slides in the back, a round side view mirror, and a day/night rear view mirror. The cost was $20 for all of it, plus a black-and-blue spot on the webbing between thumb and forefinger caused while temporarily reassigning a Craftsman Screwdriver to chisel duty. After the swearing (and snickering from Boy Wonder), the Suburban gave up its door stops, and the small squares of sheetmetal they screwed to. Lunch was at The Main Street Cafe. Rule for the Road: Always ask what the special is, and always order it. Their open faced Roast Beef Sandwich was among the best I've ever had: It was a big slab of roast beef, half an inch thick, with home-made gravey. Boy Wonder had potatoe and bacon soup, with a cup of hot chocolate--much needed, as the temperature wasn't getting any warmer.
Saturday saw us into Memphis. We went through several small towns, saw incredible flocks of geese, and talked a lot about hunting, fishing, and the things we were seeing. For the entire trip, Boy Wonder was Navigator. As I said earlier, that kid can handle a map. I never once looked at the maps--because I didn't need to. We deviated several times from his original dinner-table route, and he never missed a beat. He'd tell me what road we were on, what road we needed to take, when it was coming up, "Turn left when you get into that town" or "Go west on..." Never once did we need to turn around and double back because the directions were wrong. Saturday evening was the much anticipated Pig N Whistle BBQ stop, and I must say, it didn't disappoint. Thanks very much to everyone here who recommended it. Saturday evening was also the low-spot of the trip. After eating, I needed a pic of the truck under the neon sign. It was a 4-lane road with a turn lane, and the best vantage was across the street. I crossed and took my shot, then headed back to the truck. I got into the turn lane, and traffic picked up again, stranding me there. I wasn't comfortable: The road was dark, I was wearing a dark jacket and ball cap. I needed to move to a more lit spot, and walked up the turn lane about 40 feet, to where it was fairly well lit. But I was still uncomfortable. I thought "This is better, but I still don't like it...I'm going to get hit." No sooner did that thought leave my mind, then my feet left the ground. I got hit square from behind, just below the knees. I went fully up onto the hood, flat on my back, and immediately knew what was happening. THEN the guy decides to apply his brakes, which sent me sailing through the air. while in the air I thought "don't let your head hit the pavement" and didn't, landing on my ass and elbows about 12 feet in front of his car. I distinctly remember seeing my camera--still in my hand--smack the road hard and thought "Damn, that's the FOURTH time that thing has hit the ground hard...hope it's okay. Get up out of the road!" Limping back to the guy's car, his door was open and his head was poking out while he asked if I was okay. I calmly retreived my Atlanta Braves ball cap from his cowl and said "No I'm not okay! You hit me with your fucking car!" I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! "I hope not! I'd hate to think you hit me on purpose!" We talked for a few minutes--him scared, me limping and sore, him not getting out of the car. It ended when I said "I'm going to call an ambulance and have them look me over...my leg is killing me" at which point he slammed his door and hauled ass. I tried to get a shot of his plate, but didn't see one, and my camera turned off when it hit the ground. The ambulance came and looked me over, and then I told the cop what happened. He asked if I had a plate number or description of the car and driver, and I told him no plate, but it was a blue Chevy Corsica, 2dr, with a dented hood. It went down to the light and turned right. It's only been about 15 minutes. When I gave him a description of the driver, his expression changed, and he told me that since there was no damage and I wasn't going to the hospital, if they found him at all it would just be an accident report. I'm not saying I wasn't at fault, but the dude had beer on his breath and was driving without his headlights on--my son told me that, as he saw the whole thing. But it looks like if you're in Memphis, hit/skip on a pedestrian isn't much of a big deal. I limped over to a Walgreens, got a bottle of Advil and an ace bandage, found a nice hotel, and woke up almost good as new the next day. Boy Wonder didn't freak out because there were no squeeling brakes, and I was up and around pretty quick...once he saw the car drive off, he figured everything was cool. My ass and elbows are sore, and my calf is still a little swelled, but damn, considering, I'm doing just fine.
Glad your alright, and boy wonder is too. Still a close call but your trip still is going to be a thing to remember forever. Thanks for posting it.
Sunday saw us on the road for home. We stayed mainly on the two-lane state highways, with Boy Wonder at the maps. He also learned to shoot pictures this trip, using my digital gear. Every dad likes it when his son follows in his foot steps, and although I don't really care what he does when he grows up (as long as he's happy), I dig seeing him shoot pictures with his hat on backwards. He's had a few pics in magazines, but without a byline. If this adventure gets published, he'll get the lead photo credit, because he took most of the shots. Somewhere along the way--I forget which state, I managed to get the truck stuck going for a photo op. When you're driving an old vehicle, and you see a highway sign for "Rust College," you're not much of a car guy if you don't stop to pose a shot. I thought "I'll make a big sweeping turn through that ditch, and parrallel park under the sign for a good profile shot." The ditch was very shallow, and looked bone dry. I actually heard what sounded like a sponge behing wrung out when I hit the center of the ditch. We tried getting it out ouselves for about 45 minutes, but it wasn't working. Boy Wonder even learned to let a clutch out without stalling the engine while I pushed. It was more than a little tense, as the grass in the ditch was bone dry--and touching the exhaust pipes. We had three 2/3-full bottles of soda in the truck which were sacrificed to quench the grass, pluss a half bottle of wizz filled on the spot. Just when we'd decided to start walking to the last exit, a good Samaritan with a winch got us out in about three minutes. The rest of the trip was very un-eventful. We drove through Birmingham, and picked up I-20 to Atlanta, then up I-85 to home. The truck did well, keeping up with freeway speed trafic as well as anything. We pulled in about 9:30, sorry the trip was over, but glad to be home. All told, we drove the truck about 1000 miles home, without incident. Well, the truck didn't let us down anyway, though there was more than a little human error involved! I'm a little sore--both from driving the truck and restyling that Chevy. Andrew is a bit sleep deprived and grumpy in the mornings, but we both had a grand time...
Wow! That's crazy! That thing must have come out of no where... I can see it driving with no headlights on, too!!! Seriously, glad you're ok. Great story!! This is going to be one that the "boy wonder" tells the rest of his life.
Brad - that is an awesome story, I loved it. He will remember this forever and I have a feeling the Burb will be around just about that long too. Glad you are feeling better, sounds like the guy that hit you was "related" to someone. That sucks.
what a great story, thanks for all the details, love that shot of the rust college. i love those old 'burbans, this is definitely one of those times you will remember forever.
You know, getting hit by the car was probably one of the dumbest situations I've every put myself in...and the only thing that really bugs me is that I don't want THAT to be the only thing Andrew remembers about the trip! I played it down a whole lot that night, and just ignored it the next day. We joked about it a bunch, and I'm fine with a few Advil a couple times a day. The big thing, though, was how much fun we had the other three nights and four days. We saw a BUNCH of stuff that was really nice...nature, small towns, neat buildings. And that BBQ WAS really good! Andrew said the pulled pork was the highlight of the trip. He read a book on Lewis and Clark along the way for school, too, which was cool because we went by a sign that said "Lewis and Clark Trail" at one point. It was perfect, taking our adventure while he was also reading about Lewis and Clark's adventure. The Game Boy never made it in the suit case...and it wasn't missed at all. -Brad
Typical Memphis!! I hate to admit sometimes that I live here. Just why did the cop change expressions? Let me guess. And you know the SOB sure didn't have insurance! If you want to, PM me a description of the idiot driver and car and I'll look around that part of town. Might get lucky. Sorry for the misfourtune.
Thank God you didn't get badly hurt or worse yet,,,,killed,,,,,,,Your son's great adventure could have been his worst nightmare! You gonna drive it to the swap meet? HRP
That is a great story. Those are the kind of things my dad did with me when I was little. I remember many nights of sleeping in the ol' dodge van with our precious new projects on the trailer behind. It is times that like those that forged our relationship and relayed his love of the hobby to me. I only wish he was around now to reap the benefits and relive all those days again.
WOW! What an adventure the two of you had! Glad to hear he enjoyed himself, the Surburban ran fine and that you didn't get seriously hurt or KILLED. Was wondering about you two over the weekend. Thanks for the story, made my day.
I have been waiting for your return story. Glad all went well accept for your accident. You are a Top Dad! You know I have seen that sign for Rust collage many times and the conncetion with rusty cars never crossed my mind. I will get a pic. next time I am up that way, but I'll watch out for that ditch. Again, hats off to you Top Dad
Thanks for the read, money can't buy a memory like that for your son. Glad you weren't hurt seriously.... CC
The Jalopy Journal
