- Cranking cars by hand. We traded our Model T to Grandpa Bales for his 1927 Chevy. The Chevy had a bad habit of “kicking” when you cranked it. When the engine started it would spin the crank backwards. Many people broke their arms trying to crank cars. If you wrapped you hand around the crank, you ran the risk of breaking your thumb. Grandpa was getting older. By this time he was probably in his late fifties. His children were afraid the Chevy was going to break his arm, so we traded.
- The Model B Ford We didn’t keep the Chevy long until we traded it for a Model B Ford. All the Model B’s that were ever made were made in 1932. Ford came out with the V-8 engine in the middle of the year. Ours was a four-door car with back doors opening toward from the front. They were called “suicide doors” because people often leaned against them and fell out of the car. It happened to me one day, but I was in the cotton field at the time, so I wasn’t hurt . Scared me pretty bad though.
Ours looked something like this, although I noticed it doesn't have the suicide doors. Our was black and did not have a shiny finish. There were not white sidewall tires.
- My little red wagon. I used to pull Noma in it, but she would never pull me. Her logic was unanswerable. “Norman I’m two months and two hours older than you, so you have to pull me.”
- Noma’s bossiness. “Noma got to do everything first because of that two months and two hours lead time argument. I got it back on her later. When she turned sixty and I wasn’t there yet, I treated her like an old woman. I sent a card on which I wrote, “If I were as old as you are I wouldn’t buy green bananas.” There was no kindergarten in those days, so we started to school when we were in the first grade. When we were five, Noma confronted me. She said, "Norman, you're going to school next year. Do you know your ABC's, then she reeled them off. I couldn't make it to D.
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