Ira Hitt - Class of "65"

Walter Wood? Oh, yes, I knew Walter...

Back when I was 14 or 16, (I forget now which) I got a '50 model Ford Coupe, and Walter stopped me one night over by the Silver Spur Cafe because I had a headlight out. Well, I had the car but I had not gotten around to getting my driver's licence yet. So he gave me a ticket for driving without a license and told me to take the car home and park it.

Back then, they only gave the driving test once a month (I believe) and I had a couple of weeks to wait. Walter stopped me again over near Sylvester a couple of days later. I had a licensed driver with me and I told him I "was praticing" for the drivers test. I think he suggested that I "practice a little slower," but he didn't give me a ticket. Instead, he had the licensed driver take me home.

He caught me again in Roby a day or two later, and by the time he got through with me that time, I really wasn't interested in driving anymore. I left the car on the side of the road and walked home! (But he didn't give me a ticket.)

Well, I got my license, and things rocked along, though Walter and I did stop at the side of the road and chew the fat occassionaly. (Usually, a long, hard, stare was enough to settle me down for the rest of the day!) A couple of years later I was coming home on highway 180 in a borrowed '53 Ford in the wee hours of the morning, with two other miscreants asleep in the back seat. Just as I crossed that last bridge east of Roby a man in civilian clothes stepped out in the road with a flashlight and flagged me down. It was Walter. Did the man never sleep? And how could he he know I'd be trying to sneak into town at that time of the morning? Walter was with two other fellows in a shiney new car, and the car wouldn't start. They wanted to push start it.

Walter told me the car had an automatic transmission and we'd have to get up to 40-45 miles per hour before it would start. So I turned around and eased up to what I thought was the right car (There were two of them, you know.) and away we went. But that Ford would hardly push itself, and I couldn't get them going fast enough for their car to start. The fellow in the back seat kept motioning for me to "come on, come on", but I already had both feet flat on the floor, and I was urging that old Ford on with every breath I took! I had to push them all the way to the top of the hill (three miles, maybe?) and get a running start down the other side before thier car started. I figured they would turn around and stop me, but they let me go.

Walter? Oh yes, I knew Walter. I'm afraid they don't make them like that anymore....