Just Like Your Daddy

In his younger days, my father gave new meaning to the term "speeding".

One of my earliest memories is being in the back seat of his new Ford Convertible. I was riding with my four siblings aged 4 to 12. We were going on a day trip somewhere and leaving later than my father wanted. We were loaded up in the car and my father was blowing the horn for my mother. She came out and said she wasn't ready and that she needed something from town before we left. My father got upset and drove us the mile to town and back at over 100MPH. It wasn't the first or last time he drove us that fast.

He loved to race. One time when he had just gotten a new Buick Roadmaster  (always with the biggest motor) his partner had just taken delivery of a new Oldsmobile. The got into an argument about whose car was fastest and decided to race the forty miles from Houston to Galveston . I don't remember who won. 

He had a reputation with all the local police and State troupers . He got so many tickets that no one wanted to sell him insurance. 

The fruit doesn't fall far from the tree, so I fell right in line with the speeding. Looking back, its amazing that I survived. 

Life in a small Texas town was boring and evenings were spent with a car load of buddies driving    around town. Everyone would pitch in a quarter or half dollar and that would supply the fuel for the evening. 

One evening in particular stands out in my mind. We were cruising around in the families 57 Ford Rag Top. There was a carload of guys from the next town and every time we met, we would have an impromptu race. My Ford was white, as was the out of towners car. As we came along side them on the main drag, I called out, "See if you can catch me". The passenger motioned to the rear, and said something, but I didn't understand what he said.

We were right at the street that went in front of the high school, so I locked the brakes and made a panic right turn. I burned rubber as I accelerated , I glanced in my rear view mirror and could see a  white car behind me. One more block and I locked the brakes again and did another right panic turn. I floored the pedal again and that is when the State Trouper cut on his flashing lights. The white car I had seen following wasn't the out of town guys, but the Highway patrol. 

I couldn't hardly breath as the trouper walked up to my car. "Drivers License!" he said gruffly. With shaking hands I fished my license out of my wallet and handed it to him. He examined it and then with a smirk he said ,"Boy, looks like your just like your daddy". I was surprised that he only gave me a warning.