On the Moraine, Part XXXVIII
By Jim Thompson
HCP columnist
Since permanently moving to the farms when I was 12 and limiting our travels to basically farm to farm and then to Hillsboro, I viewed the world as very large. To me, Cincinnati was the other side of the world.
Chillicothe was halfway to the other side of the world, even though we sold some pulpwood to the paper mill there.
When I was a freshman at Hillsboro High School, right after lunch, I had study hall in infamous Room 21. On the second floor, on the southwest corner of the building, it had a great view of Route 50. At nearly the same time every day, the eastbound Greyhound bus would pull up to the traffic light out front. The head sign on that bus read “Washington, D.C.” Talk about the other side of the world!
I would sit there and dream about that trip to Washington. Much later in life, perhaps just 10 years ago, I drove Route 50 from the west side of the White House to Hillsboro, the same trip the other direction, just to do it.
I have also driven Ohio Route 41 from in front of the high school in Troy, through Cynthiana and on down to Sinking Spring and beyond. I did this on my 65th birthday. I have certainly mentioned solo driving the 48 contiguous states in seven days (did this when I was 54).
One experience that encouraged my wanderlust was the Monday morning I arrived at high school and one of my classmates, now deceased, had driven a Volkswagen bug from Hillsboro to New York City and back over the weekend.
His parents had been gone, and he wanted to see New York. I suspect he was 16. Cool!
But finally, we had a little adventure. This was after we had gotten the Corvair. We had not been to see my Grandmother since the summer of 1962. She lived in Graysville, Ind., a village almost to the Illinois border, south of Terre Haute. One Thanksgiving, we decided we could make the trip if we carefully took care of all the animals we had by then (1965).
We fed everything late one evening and went to bed early. We got up at about 3 a.m. and headed to Granny's. This is before most of the interstates had been built. So, we took Route 50 to Bedford, Ind., went north a few miles, then turned left at a state road that would take us the rest of the way across the state.
We stopped at Oolitic about daylight at a little restaurant. I had a hamburger with one slice of pickle and a glass of milk. I remember it like it was this morning.
We had taken Granny a Christmas present, which was a “Taylor” indoor-outdoor thermometer. That afternoon, Dad and I installed it for her. It was still on her house the last time I looked.
Dad also went up in the attic while we were there, found some old school books and brought them home. I still have at least one of them.
We started for home about dark and got home just after midnight. We checked on the cattle and pigs and fed them before we went to bed, likely about 2 a.m.
I have mentioned that I own a Corvair, and it is one that has been restored. But I can’t imagine driving it that kind of distance today.
Jim Thompson, formerly of Marshall, is a graduate of Hillsboro High School and the University of Cincinnati. He resides in Duluth, Ga. and is a columnist for The Highland County Press.