Nostalgia is described as a bittersweet emotional state involving a wistful or sentimental longing for a past period, person, or place. I know in my life time I have been guilty of trying to live in the past. In Ecclesiastes 7:10 the wise man says ” Do not say, why were the old days better than these? for it is not wise to ask such questions.” So I will not ask that unwise question. But when exactly was that seemingly illusive period of time we refer to as the good old days? For me it seems to be those memories from the distant past when I was first becoming old enough to roam around on my own. But there were boundaries and I knew what they were. I would go outside and get on my bike and ride down the drive way to Cutten Road. I was not allowed to go any further than that. Cutten Road was just a shale road back then. Maybe a half dozen families lived up and down the road at that time. Hours would pass and not one single car would go by. There were not any other kids in the neighborhood to play with except maybe the Henry girls just down the lane. Sometimes I would just go lay down in the middle of the road and hope that my cousins would come to visit. But I knew that Aunt Lola lived just a little ways down the road. Man I could hear the highway calling. Once when I was about 4 or 5 years old and before I was in school I was at home with mom in the kitchen listening to Pat Boone singing on the radio. “Here is my chance!” I checked in with mom so she would not suspect I was up to anything and then ran out of the door and hopped on my bike and road down to Aunt Lolas house as fast as I could go. Wow what a rush! I was going at least 60 mph on that tiny little bike. Turned around and came back just as Pat Boone was finishing up the last verse “Love letters, in the sand”. “Why are you so out of breath?” “Just been riding my bike hard mom.” So my first taste of real freedom involved wheels in the form of a bicycle.
Later on in High school I was always playing basketball, running track or marching in the band. No time to take drivers ed. However at the time you could get a license for a motor bike provided it was no more than 5 brake horse power. I had always wanted a motor bike. So I saved my mowing money and Dad helped me buy a 1970 Yamaha twin cylinder 90cc bike. It qualified for the horse power restriction. Mom took me and my good friend Ricky Nickerson down to the DMV to take our driving test. Rick passed his test but I failed because I did not pull over into the right lane far enough to make a right turn. So I had to go back later and try again. This time the officer takes one look at my bike and says, “You can’t get a license for that bike, too much horsepower.” After insisting that it met the requirements he goes in and calls the Yamaha dealership to confirm it. He comes back and says, “That’s the first twin cylinder bike ever made that is rated at less than 5 brake horse power because they put slides in the carbs to restrict the horse power.” I already knew that bike would do 70 mph with a tailwind. Later on Dad was talking to his friend at the Yamaha dealership and told him what the officer said. His friend says, “Oh the first thing I do when those bikes come in is pull those stupid slides out of the carburetors. “
Me and my 1970 Yamaha HS1 90cc Rocket ready for the road. You can see the corner of my dad’s Chevy station wagon on the right side of the photo. That thing had a 396 in it. I know, “What a waste.” But it was fun to drive.
Ricky and his 1970 Harley Davidson 125cc
So I actually had a motorcycle license before I had a car license. This brought about a whole new world of freedom on two wheels. Man I remember exactly how it felt cruising down the road, cool breeze in my hair, “I heard the mission bell, I remember thinking to myself this could be Heaven or this could not be Heaven.” There were so many songs rattling through my mind. I remember singing Green Eyed Lady by Sugar Loaf as I flew down Hargrave road past my Grandparents house. Why did I like that song so much? Oh yeah, I think I know why. It was just me and my thoughts and the open road, like a gift from an old friend offering comfort from a challenging world for a kid trying his best to grow up. A vivid imagination and memories were two of my best friends. Just give me the open road and a sky full of clouds to make shapes out of and I was good for a thousand miles.
This is what I looked like in my imagination.
I remember one Friday night Rick and I thought it would be cool to ride our bikes to a friends house that was having a party. On the way coming back down FM149 we cut off at Cutten Road which ran over to FM 1960. That is where the name Cutten Road came from. There was not anyone named Cutten that the road was named after. It did not really have a name so it became known as Cutten Road because people were taking a short cut across from FM 149 over to FM 1960. They were Cutten across. That is what we were doing. Anyway Rick road along with me down Cutten Road to 1960. When we got to 1960 there was not a car in sight. So I continued on down Cutten road to my house and Rick turned left on 1960 heading back up and over the train tracks to 149. When I got to my house I could hear Ricks Harley across the woods in the clear night air all the way over on 149 heading to his house. The reason I tell this story is to illustrate just how sparsely populated the area was when I was growing up compared to now.
So this was the era of my life before automobiles. Most of the kids in the neighborhood had motorbikes.
Cutten Road chapter of the Hells Angels Year of our Lord Circa 1970. Pictured far left Ronnie Meador, me in the center, my brother Carl in front of me holding the helmet, Ben Douglas, far right Dale Simms AKA Killer. Picture taken in front of our house facing Cutten Road
Carl with his Suzuki 90 cc about 1972
Me and good friend Douglas Lawrence at Lake Sommerville the summer of 1970. Doug had a Suzuki 350.
Not much went on in our quiet little neighborhood on Cutten Road when I was a Kid. But there was a little bit of excitement now and then. Carls friend Ronnie Meador lived just down the street from us past Aunt Lolas house where Cutten Road made a 90 degree bend and became Hargrave Road. He had acquired a 1966 Mustang with a 289 engine. That engine was burning some oil. How much oil? Well let’s just say we were not having any problems with mosquitos that summer. Back in those days you still had service stations so he would drive up to the pump and tell the attendant to fill it with oil and check the gas. I think that car kept Bob Hargraves store in business from all of the oil purchases. So Carl and Ronnie decided that they were going to rebuild that worn out engine. The only tools they had were a screw driver and a rusty crescent wrench. But they were determined. So I am sure they mic’d all of the cylinders and inspected the bearing surfaces. Carl to Ronnie, “Cylinder number 6 plus 1/16.” Ronnie to Carl, “Ok good to go, order the standard size ring sets”. I went by there one afternoon while they were taking it apart. They were working in a shed with a dirt floor. Ronnie was underneath the car pulling the pistons out. He had kicked over a container full of oil and was wallowing around in it. Carl was trying to label the parts as best he could and was searching for dropped parts in the dirt. I said, “Looks like this is going just fine. See you guys later.” Well the new parts finally came in. Ronnie to Carl, “Hey which order do these rings go on these pistons. I don’t know read the instructions. It says to use a ring expander. Well we ain’t got one of those. Hey Ronnie why don’t you go check out your mother’s kitchen and see if she’s got some kind of gadget in one of those drawers that might work. Hey Carl where is the oil pump? I think it fell behind that work bench. Do we really need that anyway?” So some how they finally got that thing put back together and started it up. I was in a different county that day and I could still hear it. And just how much did it help the oil consumption problem? Well it was burning so much oil now that they nick named her Spindletop.
Carl and Ronnie rebuilding Spindletop. (or at least AIs version)
