We can be thankful

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist
 
It was wet. I'd been checking the forecast for weeks, but no matter how much I checked, I knew that the weather would be what it would be. There was nothing I could do other than get things in order.

We washed the 1966 El Camino until its red paint glowed and its chrome sparkled in the sunlight. I built a large sign, with Greg's help, to put in the truck's bed. I painted the wood black to match the Elky's tires and interior, and then carefully placed black letters on the sign's white background. I stood back with a smile. We were ready for the 173rd Brown County Fair Parade.

I checked the weather, again. The forecast seemed to be turning in our favor. Two days out and there was only a 15 percent chance of rain. The forecast held.

The parade lineup was to be at 4:30 p.m. on the first day of the fair. The floats would start pulling out of the high school parking lot at 5 p.m., make their way through town, pass in front of the courthouse and finally circle the central ring at the fairgrounds.

We all gathered in the parking lot at our assigned positions. We chatted with fellow paraders, yet I couldn’t help but notice that everyone kept looking over their shoulders towards the west. The sky directly overhead was grey, but the westerly horizon was ominously dark. We continued to chat, check the time, and nervously watch as the dark sky grew nearer. A few drops fell, then a few more, and in an instant, it was pouring down rain.

Puddles formed under our feet. Rivers flowed through the parking lot, and two of our fellow Old Car Friends pulled out of the line and headed home. Old cars are finicky. We understood.

Finally, it was our turn to pull out of the lot and join the line of paraders headed to the fairgrounds. Within a few blocks I noticed that the rain had begun to slow, and then a few blocks farther on, the rain stopped.

I waved to the crowds from inside the Elky. I was amazed by their smiles. The downpour had not seemed to dampen their spirits at all.

Some of the floats tossed candy to the waiting children. Colorful sacks bugled with the sweet treats. People waved, calling out passing friends and neighbors. Some folk simply exclaimed their wonder at the passing parade. Our rain splashed El Camino received a whole lot of love.

Several fellows called out that their first car had been an El Camino. One fellow grinned and told us that his father had actually used an Elky as a work truck, but would still to put his foot on the gas to hear the roar of its muscle car engine. Several little girls, several blocks apart, exclaimed that the Elky was their very favorite thing in the whole parade. I have no idea why, but perhaps their favorite color was red. I heard one of the fathers tell his daughter, looking at us with a smile as we passed, that he'd see what he could do.

We inched our way past the courthouse and as we neared the fairgrounds, a young man approached my open window and told me that we had a beautiful car, but he'd just been at the center ring. We knew that it was made of sandy dirt. The fellow shook his head, and advised me that the ring had turned into a deep muddy mess. I thanked him, got out of the Elky, and walked back to tell our remaining Old Car Friends that it would not be wise not to enter the ring. We all wholeheartedly agreed. We decided to pull out of the parade.

We drove past the fairground entrance, circled around the back side of town, and then each of us headed home.

This was not the fair parade that I had envisioned, but it still had been special. The wet crowd had seemed happy even though they had to step around the sidewalk puddles. I saw several groups of children joyfully splashing in those puddles and imagined that their parents must have figured that as wet as the children were, a little more wetness wouldn’t do them any harm.

And as for us? We had collected a whole lot of old car love, and we had thankfully avoided the mud. All that remained for us was to wash down the El Camino. My heart goes out, however, to those who truly suffered the consequences of the storm. Our weeklong wet fair was not what any of us had hoped for, but I know that we are all now counting down the days to the 174th Brown County Fair. Unlike those farther south, here in Brown County, we can be thankful.

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in Ohio south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com. 

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