Thirty Five in a Forty Five

In 1976 I was roughly 13 years old going on 21. I spent my days either going to school, avoiding school, missing school, working after school, and various other activities in my small home town. Hunting and Fishing were always on my mind.

1976 was also the year our hometown pharmacy changed hands. For years it was a family-owned business and that year the owners decided to retire. The store was put up for sale while the owners waited for someone to step in and take it over.

The impending change of ownership was the talk of the town. The original owners were advancing in age and the hours for the business continually shrank at their whim.

That summer they decided to hire a part time pharmacist who drove into town in a red 50^th anniversary 1964 Dodge Dart Four Door with a six-cylinder engine and “three on the tree” as they called the old steering wheel mounted shifters in that era.

Why did I go into such detail on that old car? Because when the pharmacist arrived in town, he decided to sell it and the price was $300 cash. My father being a dedicated Chrysler/Dodge fan wasted no time in purchasing that beautiful solid steel Red Dodge for the family business.

My friends called it “The Demon.” You would think it’s because it was red. That is not the case.

I think we called it the demon because it brought out the devil in me.

That was my first car. At the age of 13. When, in 1976, the age for a state issued driver’s license was still 15 years of age. An age I had not yet attained.

But, no matter. I was 13 and knew how to drive. Soon, I was driving my demon up and down sugarcane headlands (headlands are dirt roads adjacent to sugarcane fields used by farmers to travel between or in and around fields) which transported me to places far and wide around my hometown in Southern Louisiana, the heart of Cajun Country. I was careful crossing gravel or paved roads to get from one sugarcane field to the next. I rarely drove on the actual roads lest a local law enforcement official see a 13-year-old carelessly driving down the road. Which I did. Sometimes.

50 years later seems like an appropriate amount of time to admit that once I was out of sight of my father and my sisters, the car steered itself back onto the road so I could quickly get to the better hunting or fishing areas near me. My father’s caution to me was similar to this: “If you get caught on the road, you’re on your own. You’ll have to deal with the consequences and pay any fines.”

To be continued…