My junior year, Daddy gave me a car–a 1948 Nash. It was ten years old, but looked like new. Where he got the money for it, I’ll never know–he probably traded a cow for it. Instantly I became one of the most popular girls in school, however much to my discredit, I obtained some revenge by ignoring all those kids who had been so mean to me--the country bumpkin. With my own wheels, I lived at home my junior high school year.
Every morning I would drive my brother and me to school, 25 miles thru a mountain canyon, with tunnels and switchbacks–a mountain cliff on one side and a drop off to the river on the other. One winter morning, the road was covered in black ice and I probably was going a bit too fast, when I touched my brakes, the car spun around, my brother was as scared as a little girl, but all was well, I ended up heading in the right direction. After all I was sixteen. I do remember after that being a little more careful driving mountain roads in winter.