Tuesday, December 01, 2009

Rossie's driving

My maternal grandparents were the salt of the earth. They were the most honest, loving and forgiving people than I’ve ever known and I’m lucky to have spent as much time with them as I did. Must be where I got those awesome traits from! Ha!! Anyhoo…I can’t think of ONE bad thing to say about my Grandma Nellie (when she died, it destroyed me!) but if pressed about Rossie I’d have to say it was his driving. He had a ’62 Chevy (Carolina blue, of course!) that he was pretty proud of and didn’t want a scratch on. I made the mistake once of riding with him to the little town of Spring Hope. I was prolly 9 at the time. It wasn’t that he was a bad driver. It was that he was an excruciatingly SLOW driver! Spring Hope was only 10 miles away and it took us literally ALL DAY to go there and back, and he didn’t really have that much business there, maybe 30 minutes of shopping at the feed store. It was all spent getting there and back. If I had to guess, I’d put his personal speed limit at 15-20 mph. I could have literally gotten OUT of the car and ran along beside it. I could have stuck my head out the window and read the writing on the sides of the tires. I could have picked up litter as we went along. I could have gotten out and washed the windows. I could have gotten out, taken a break and ran to catch up later. Dogs CAUGHT the car! It was just brutal, and what does a 9 yr. old have to talk about with a 70 year old man? Who knows, but I’m sure fishing came up in the conversation. He LOVED fishing.
I guess cuz it was nice and S. L. O. W!


Anonymous said...

Yeah, that sounds like my grandfather's pace: Just fast enough so it don't "buck" in 3rd gear. He always had a 3-on-the-tree manual transmission, deeming a Powerglide or other automatic to be "puttin' on airs". He spent a little time between Nashville (NC) and Spring Hope, too, Cuz.


Anonymous said...

great-way to put us ALL in tears.

My Grampa Harry Dersch (paternal- 2nd gen German-American,from the Black Forest) -had an early 60's jet-black VW BUG (EVER the proud German)- he'd drive THIS freckled, snotty-little 9 year old, back and forth in.
Pristine red interior-
he waxed that mother until it beamed.

There was always a blanket in the back seat because that bitch was COLDER'N hell, up here in these Ohio winters.
I can't see one now, without simpering and sniffling like a idiot.

Thanks for sharing a glimpse-coming from 'salt', sorta explains how you turned out as good as ya did.