These were usually long trips, from early morning to after dark. Now we would fly in Dad's new 1947 Chrysler DeSoto Suburban. He dubbed it "The Golden Comet". It was doubtlessly the biggest car on the road. It was a tank. Probably the forerunner of the station wagon, it had a huge hatch back with a small fold up third seat. Semiautomatic with fluid overdrive. Who could ask for more?

We arrived at Grampa Wood's (Jack) early before all the fog had lifted. He was out in his yard. Funny little guy with a big smile, very little hair and a high pitched slightly gravely voice. I tried not to get too close to him. The times he had come out to the ranch to visit us I was elected to sit next to him at supper time. That was fine except between us sat his teeth. He ate better without them and could gum an ear of corn with the best of them. If not for the spittle that accumulated during the demise of the cob and the exposed teeth that I kept a close watch on, I might have been friendlier. Well there was that other thing. The spots on his pants. Round stains both wet and dry right in the front of his pleated baggy pants. Short kids notice those things. I did not want to be pressed against those spots during a hug, or run the risk of either the teeth falling out and hitting me or the drool that accompanied old man kisses. I kept my distance. Sometimes shyness has reasons.

Even thou Gramma (Eliza Lee) had been gone for a few years her feel was still in the house. Old peoples houses have an odd combination of smells that catch you as you walk in. Your first hit with the smell of boiled meat. Boiled meat has it's own smell. Vick's vapor rub takes over as the olfactory gets used to the meat. Vick's with a hint of Moth Ball. Since Gramma was gone there was none of the sweet smells of lavender and roses, just the old man smell that can take awhile to dissipate once you leave. The house was dark and sparsely furnished. Gramma's rocking chair was gone. Dad was yelling at Grampa. I was rushed out the back door to play in the back yard while the uproar continued ..

I was absorbed in walking on the stepping stones that lined the sandy path. There was Grampa, big smile, handing me a jar of cobalt blue beads. "These were your Gramma's". "Don't step on that next rock", "Take that rock home with you". It was a turtle. A little desert tortoise. I was so excited I almost let him hug me. Dad got a box for "Sandy" (I don't know how old Sandy was when I became his care taker but be lived for 26 more years). Mother took the beads and off we went with a very angry Dad.

We were on our way to Dad's cousin's, Gertie and Beatie. We stopped at a little store that sold chickens. I remember looking in the glass case, hoping for ice cream but all there was was chickens. The Man running the chicken store's name was Beverly he was Gertie's son. The "girls" weren't there so off we went to their house. The "Girls" came running out so happy to see us. They fussed all over us like mother hens. They were both just a titch taller than me and as round as they were tall. They both wore frilly aprons and were all smiles and laughter both talking at the same time. I liked these ladies and their house smelled good. I helped Beatie get chicken out of the freezer for dinner. Dad offered to kill some but Beatie said they taste better if you freeze them first. Dad was telling them that "the old man" has been giving his mother's things away to the housekeeper. He was so mad, they were upset but were trying to calm him. I remember hearing "She has been good to him", "She just smiles and he gives" "He put her in his will". They were defrosting the chickens in the big sink, then started preparing the rest of the dinner. Beverly came home from the chicken store and took me out to the see the chickens. We had chickens at home but not like this, they had hundreds in cages and the eggs rolled down to a trough on the front of the cage. Beverly was an old man himself, kind of bald and stooped. It was hard for me to grasp the concept that this old man was Gertie's little son. He was not married and lived there with his mother and aunt and took care of the things they couldn't. He was not very friendly to me maybe because I kept my distance and maybe he just didn't know about kids. When we finally ate it was the best chicken I ever had.

It was time to go but they wanted us to spend the night. The talk went back and forth, then we were on the road in the "Golden Comet" going 5 miles and hour with Dad's door open and him hanging out trying to see the center line through the thick fog. It was a long ride home and I slept the whole way