Going South

We were both on leave, I after just leaving an overseas duty station, while he had recently departed Brunswick, Maine.  We were headed in the same direction, at the same time, so we followed each other.  It was late November, or very early December 1966, and Dell and I were both headed to west central Alabama where we would split, he and his family continuing south to Pensacola, while I turned west for Meridian, Mississippi.  I had recently purchased a 1965 Chevy Belair four-door sedan, and was reasonably sure it would take me anywhere I might want to go.  I led most of the way from northern New York down into northern Alabama.

I don’t remember our entire itinerary, but I do recall we were on US 43 traveling down the western side of the state.  Although you might not think of Alabama as mountainous, that part of it does have some fairly steep hills.  We had stopped overnight somewhere or other, and this was the afternoon of the second day.  Dell, in general, was always a slower driver than I, so as I was leading he sometimes was a bit reluctant to keep up with me.  That is until we were on a downhill stretch of road and he passed me.  I could hardly believe it was him going by, but it was.  Yup, there was Dawn, her pretty little head stuck out the window waving to us as they went by.  I wouldn’t tell anyone how old she was today, but she was six then.  He continued to lead from then until we reached Eutaw, Alabama, which was our prearranged point that we would go in different directions to our separate duty stations.

As we split apart on separate highways we waved to each other, and that was it.  I don’t remember exactly how long it was, but a few weeks later our family drove down to Pensacola for an overnight visit.  While visiting I happened to mention how untypical it was of him to pass me, while I was speeding, on our way down through Alabama.  He told me he had no choice.  His rather older 1958 Ford station wagon apparently had poor brakes the entire trip, and he didn’t dare use them too frequently on those downhill roads so he just let it go.  He still didn’t know where he would get the money to repair them.

During the following week I bought a 1964 Chevy wagon, and invited him up for the weekend.  When he and the family arrived I told him to take his choice of my two vehicles.  He insisted he couldn’t afford either, and I insisted neither had to cost him a penny he wasn’t ready to part with.  His family drove that 1965 Chevy car for several years, and ultimately every penny of the agreed upon price was paid me.  Neither of the above photos are actual, but are rather representative.