On the Moraine XXXVI
By Jim Thompson
HCP columnist
I would like to think we did a pretty good job of maintaining the equipment on the farm with one exception: the 1956 Chevy.
We had bought it just about the time we had bought the McNary Farm. It was a one-year-old used car then. We changed the oil, but other than that, it did not get much love.
One Friday night it was planned, right after Dad got home from Troy, that he, John and I would go to Producers Stockyards to see a feeder calf sale. Interesting and exciting until after the sale when we went out to the car.
It started up fine, but when Dad pulled the light switch, there were no lights. What to do? We walked over to the old Hillsboro bowling alley (this is obviously before it burned down) and called Mother. This happened to be a time when Poppy was visiting us, so the idea was for Mother to come pick us up in Poppy’s 1950 Ford, which she did. We left the Chevy for the night.
Saturday morning, we went to Producers to get the Chevy. Dad had obviously been thinking overnight. He started up the Chevy and mashed the floor-mounted dimmer switch. Lights! Obviously, the “low beams” were both burned out. Likely one had been burned out for a long time. So, Dad replaced both headlights and that situation was solved.
Another time, we were over at the McNary Farm working (we had taken the truck) and Mother brought us supper. As she started to leave, the left front wheel on the Chevy, along with its suspension mounting apparatus, had come loose. Dad lifted the hood, looked at the situation, and discovered a nut had come off a bracket. I don’t remember what size it was, I do remember it was a fine threaded nut, fairly rare. Dad said, “Oh, we have one of those.”
We all went home in the truck that night. Dad walked in the garage/shop, looked in one of the five-gallon buckets of bolts and nuts we had, and pulled out the correct nut; verified the next morning when we went back to the McNary Farm, jacked up the Chevy, put it back together and finished the job with the correct nut. I was fairly good at matching nuts and bolts some distance from each other, but I was amazed in this case. Common sense would tell you the Chevy probably needed an alignment after that, but it never happened.
Finally, one Friday night when Dad was driving home from Troy, the old Chevy gave out on Ohio 73, just north of Hillsboro. A retaining ring on the right rear axle came loose and let the axle and right rear tire slip out. Dad got to a phone and called Mother. He wanted her to drive the truck to town (she had never driven it) and bring some chains. He had a plan to fix the Chevy.
Mother said, “No.” A rarity for her.
So, he had the Chevy dealer tow it into Hillsboro. I don’t recall how he got home that night.
But Saturday morning, we had no (working) car. Dad called his “MCPO (Matson Chevrolet Pontiac Oldsmobile) man” (remember those commercials on WSRW?). He brought out a 1964 four-door Corvair. My parents bought it, and that was our car for the rest of the days on the farms.
Today, I have a 1964 Corvair convertible. It is a 4-speed, white with a red interior. It is a lot of fun.
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.