|This is not the rutted dirt road I grew up on, but it is very similar.|
The greatest difference would be that my road was much
more curvy, with hills and hollows and lots of trees.
The pick-up had no air conditioning, so it was hot in the summer and our hair was always, always windblown! I can remember very few times when the windows weren’t down and the wind cascading through our tresses. In the winter, it seemed to me that the heater wasn’t working well and we were freezing cold or it was working too well and we were sweating. Never satisfied, Momma would say!
The rutted dirt road was our connection to our neighbors and to any other necessity of life not provided on the farm. Some of my fondest memories are of getting into our play clothes, jumping into the back of the pick-up and heading out to my maternal grandparent’s home for a family gathering.