Little, Light and Loyal

"Leland, do you think we could build a glider like this one in the comic strip?" His affirmative answer came when he said "I can get a role of butcher paper from the store to cover the wings!" At 12 years old Leland worked in the Camptonville General Store. Friday we finished the glider after school on the school grounds and it looked like a box with a wing and tail on it! To test the glider we hauled it to the uppermost court of the school grounds and asked our only witness, Little-Light-and-Loyal Virginia, my 7-year-old sister, to be the rider on the first flight.

Where the ground dropped to the second court with us pulling the glider there was no lift in the wing! At the next drop we tried to lift the glider off the ground at the same time as the ground dropped away, to no avail! The rear buggy wheels collapsed when the glider sagged to the ground. Even Virginia was too heavy, so we told her to get out to lighten the load. After several futile attempts to launch the glider empty, as I strained at the rope for another attempt, I leapt over a stump then deliberately pulled the glider into the stump with Leland protesting all the way! The box disintegrated with a thrilling snap and crunch, the wing nosed to the ground, and the tail stuck jauntily into the air! The following Monday, with Virginia's confirmation, we lied about our success in conquering the air. Wasn't the proof laying there in the schoolyard?

Leland and I planned to make coaster 'battle wagons' armed with rubberband-shooting gunds, rubber from old inner tubes. We would then be able to do 'dog-fights' on a sloping hillside lot like WW-I aerial battles. I knew I would be able to have a 'rear gunner' with Little-Lite-and-Loyal in my gunner's seat behind and two feet above the driver's seat. On the test run we found the stabilitiy of the wagon too top-heavy for her to ride up there. My gunner quit cold and our plan died in the testing stage. Leland had no gunner anyway.

One day at the city dump I found a steel frame of a baby cart where the baby faces toward her cooing mother. It wasn't til the snow fell that I knew what to do with that steel frame, a sled like they use with dog teams! I carefully explained to Virginia how I would be on the back of the runners steering the sled as we went over the side of the road, down the slope of snow to where the road doubled back. Virginia was eager for the test run as she always was. She had to sit within the frame as we pushed off on the 45-degree slope that wound between the trees but as the sled pitched down, I was pitched off! There she went, bouncing over the small humps, being cast side to side around the trees! She finally came to rest in a snow bank at the base of a large tree! She loved the ride! That ride frightened me so as I watched her go over the side of the road I knew if she ran into anything at that speed she would snap her legs within that steel frame or worse! That was Virginia's last ride on home-made stuff.

When I bought my 1922 Model T Touring Ford for $10 Virginia was always there to help; with the shiny green 'n brown camoflage paint job, pumping up the tires or just the general clean-up. I never licensed the 'T' or myself and only drove it around when we were sure our single CHO was NOT near C'ville; like after dark! Virginia helped me all one afternoon as I was getting the 'T' ready for the 'night run' with the kids, including Virginia. I was to get gasoline from the Pauly tank in their garage. Typical big brother, I didn't want my baby sister tagging along. I kicked the chalks from under the wheels and took off, rolling over Virginia's foot in the process! Later that day I felt bad that I treated Virginia that way, particularly when mom reminded me that she only wanted to go for a little ride; but that was they way this big brother was, to my chagrin and regret.

Our nightly ride, after dark with 6 or 8 kids in the and on the 'T', would be up a logging road here, down an alley there, but never more than two miles from town. "Tire check!" Armed with a flash light a kid would lean over the side and look at the tire below to see if it was flat or there was an inner tube bubble projecting through the cracked side wall. If there was, we would stop and deflate the tire as required and slip a boot or tube patch over the offending crack, hand pump up the tire, remove the jack and hand crank up the 'T' and off we'd go! This was the 'E' ticket ride the one summer the 'T' was running, just before I joined the Navy. While I was in the Navy my mother sold the 'T' for $10 because I didn't need it at that time.