It was one of those random conversations spurred by a bit on the news about population growth: Benton County, Arkansas, has experienced phenomenal growth.
“That’s Bentonville,” I noted. “Home of Walmart.”
“Don’t know if I’ve been there. Have you ever taken me to Bentonville,”Martha interjected.
“No, I don’t think so,” I said. “But I did call you from there once before we were married. I was at a book fair. I was driving my green Ford pickup.”
“Of course you were. How do you remember what you were driving more than 28 years ago?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess that’s how I remember things. I seem to associate everywhere I’ve been with what got me there. I reckon it’s a guy thing,” I added as she went back to reading.
Or maybe a Baby Boomer thing, I thought to myself; but, I couldn’t let it go that easily. I began thinking back on cars and trucks we’d had, testing my memory theory. It kinda works.
I may not remember everywhere we stopped when taking Melissa’s grandmother back to South Dakota, but I know we were in the new 1995 Chevy Astro van I bought after just one family trip to North Missouri in Martha’s Lumina van.
Several trips to see Kyle at Johnson Bible College in Knoxville, Tennessee, we took our burgundy Pontiac Grand Prix, but we took my second 2001 Dodge Ram to his wedding in Roanoke, Virginia, averaging just 14 mpg.
I later made a solo trip to take a bit of furniture to my brother, Russell, in Albuquerque, New Mexico, in a purplish Dodge Dakota that could barely keep up with traffic on the Interstate, and Martha and I camped out of the back of my black 2005 Dodge Hemi 4WD passing through Beaver, Oklahoma, on our way to again see Russell and Sharon in New Mexico.
We later took Martha’s mom to see brother Gary Glazier in Morton, Mississippi, in a new 2011 Ford F-150, and the last time we brought Mom up from Cherokee Village, Arkansas, I drove Martha’s late fathers old Mazda pickup.
Earlier, the sole New Mexico camping trip I took with my brother David was made in a blue 1996 F-150 that replaced the aforementioned green one. Years before that I hauled Russell to school in Rolla in a white 1963 Ford Galaxie.
Of course, I’ve had more memorable experiences with various cars and trucks in my 76 years — way to many to recall here. But, isn’t it interesting that every car has a story, and every story a car (or truck)?
Some years ago I read a book by an old cowboy — The Wandering, Trapping and Trading Cowboy, I think he called it. The old guy was a little sketchy on some details of his life in the West, but he could recall every detail about every horse he ever owned. I reckoned that was a cowboy thing.
So, maybe it’s not so strange I can recall something about every vehicle I’ve regularly ridden in or owned since I was 5 years old — back to and before Dad’s brand new 1953 Mercury. Guy thing or not, it’s somethin’.
Copyright 2024, James E. Hamilton; email jhamilton000@centurytel.net. Read more of his works in Ozarks RFD 2010-2015, available online from Amazon or from the author.
