A Weekend at the Farm
Chapter Eight A WEEKEND AT THE FARM My father had such a close relationship with his family that for several years we spent nearly every weekend at the farm. After breakfast on Saturday morning, he would crank up the Ford (literally crank it, with a hand crank), and after it warmed up, we would pile in. When I say it warmed up, I mean the engine warmed up, because cars didn't have heaters in those days. When it was really cold, we would bundle up in heavy clothes, and my mother would heat a couple of bricks and wrap each in a towel, one for Betty and one for me, to keep our feet warm during the trip. At that time, large sections of Route 220 were still unpaved, and there was one low place in the road where, except in dry weather, a shallow stream ran across the road. On one of those Saturday morning trips, our car got stuck in the mud there, and I became frightened. My father walked to a nea