March 6, 2012
It was a green ‘55 Chevy station wagon. My Dad bought it for me the previous summer. (We hardly had any money in 1969; I had none.) It was ugly but fun. We called it The Pickle.
In early February 1970, the Pickle and I were wending northward on the two lane ribbon from Bartlesville, OK to Wichita, KS where my fiancée was a student at Friends University. The purpose was to bring Annette back down to Bartlesville for the weekend college Valentine banquet.
I had just removed the snow tires, snow being long gone in Bartlesville. The ones I put back on the car were nearly treadless. Big deal. The roads were all dry. Read the rest of this entry »
