In 1953, I turned fifteen and got a Mississippi drivers license but had no car. I also had two younger cousins who were thirteen and eleven that lived in Birmingham, Alabama, and they came to my grandparents house for the summer too. We had so many things we wanted to do but just couldn’t because we didn’t want to walk everywhere.
Well about that time a friend of my Uncle’s, named Carl, who lived in St. Louis bought an old Army World War Two surplus Jeep and needed some place to keep it in Mississippi. To make a long story short, he painted the devilish thing red and brought it to My grandparents house.
This seemed to be a wonderful event since we now had transportation and many places we wanted to go. However, the obstacles soon began rearing their ugly heads, but were nothing three healthy country boys couldn’t handle or so I thought.
You didn’t even need a key to crank it, just twist two wires together. First and foremost it had a battery that would not take a charge. This meant that every time I wanted to start it, I, or someone else, had to push it.
Since I had a driver’s license I was happy to let others do most of the pushing. We would push it up a small hill in the pasture and then push it down the slope to start it. This was good, if it cranked (which it seldom did the first time) but if not, we had to push it back up the hill and try again.
At this time we enlisted the help of our grandmother and now think that all that pushing took years off her life.
Secondly, we were saddled with the task of keeping gas in it. Now gas was only ten Cents a gallon but non-working country boys never had ten cents to spare. Once after about six tries at starting it, I stuck a stick in the gas tank and heard it strike the bare metal of the bottom of the tank. Even the bottom of the stick remained dry.
We stole a little gas from my grandfathers gas can he used for his lawn mower and poured it in the tank. However, it still wouldn’t start after five or six more trips up and down the hill. When my grandfather got home he informed us that when a car ran out of gas, you had to prime the carburetor. He loaned us a little more gas and showed us how to prime the jeep.
The darn thing then started on the third trip down the slope, but it was too late to go anywhere. I guess we should have looked on the bright side of the situation as it kept all three of us busy all day without getting into trouble, but we didn’t. If I remember correctly I swore vengeance on that darn old red jeep that day.
Now the jeep had a windshield that would either lay down on the hood or stand up. However, it was stuck down and we couldn’t raise it. Since most of the roads in Pontotoc County back then were gravel it made most trips into an obstacle course, especially for the two in the front seat. You had to watch where you were going and dodge flying missiles and bugs at the same time.
Once my Uncle was driving us fishing and we met a pickup that was kicking up a lot of dirt. After it passed, my uncle said it could have been worse as he only had rocks in one eye. However, the jeep was wonderful in one way.
On Saturday, small towns in Mississippi, became big towns as nearly everyone in the county came to town to do their shopping, and farmers would be selling their produce. People would be walking down the main street, shoulder to shoulder and so close you could touch the one in front of you.
Now my cousins were pretty good musicians back then and I fooled around with a tenor banjo of my Dads. We were joined by another friend of the family that lived a few miles away, in Tupelo, and played a mean guitar. Bill was our age, could drive, and would come to my grandparents every Saturday. The four of us would load up in the darn old red jeep and head for court square where we would get a good parking place and "make Music" for hours.
We would be parked in the middle of farmers selling everything from watermelons to chickens. However, we seemed to attract people so the farmers liked it.
The next year things changed drastically as my family moved and, for the first time in ten years, I didn’t spend the summer at my Grandparents. I got a summer job the next year and Carl came and got his old jeep and we never saw it again. I never did get my revenge on it.
Janie Moser © 01/22/07
As told by Charlie Baldwin
