Riding in a car
I do not proof these so please forgive any typos.
The 60’s and 70’s were dangerous times to be a kid as a vehicle passenger. There was not a child safety seat in sight or seat belt laws for that fact. It was anarchy in a passenger vehicle and the kids were in charge. We road in the back of the Vista Cruiser Station wagon floating around in zero gravity, climbing from front to back again all while traveling at 55 mph, 60 mph if Pop wanted to average a mile a minute. Who needed an amusement park when you had the Vista Cruiser, full tank of gas and a father who liked to watch the mayhem through the rear view mirror?
My mom had a breaking point when it came down to our behavior. I’m not sure if we really ever determined exactly what pushed her over the line but we knew when it happened. Oh there were warnings but then she would clearly announce that she was pulling the car over and the beatings would begin. My mom could hit the brakes on the vehicle in such a way the caused my sisters and I to gently slide to the front of the vehicle which gathered us in one jumbled mess by the front seat. At the point the vehicle came to a stop we were all in mother's reach. That’s when the beatings would begin; no one could get away fast enough. Mother could hit each one of us within seconds and have the vehicle back up to cruising speed without breaking a sweat.
I remember one trip to Florida, it was my sisters, mom, grandmother, me and a bag fresh oranges. My sisters and I were probably under ten at the time. All three of us had a little gadget called a citrus sipper. The citrus sipper was a small plastic device that you inserted into a fresh orange in order to sip the juice out of the orange. The citrus sipper required that you squeeze the orange while rotating it in your hands. Inevitably you would get orange juice all over your hands. For me, I could never stand to have dirty or sticky hands. To this day I hate maple syrup because you always end up with some on your hands. I do not like that tacky feeling that comes with syrup on your hands nor do I like the smell of maple. Sticky floors and being touched are also on the list of things I hate. Anyway back to the story.
Our grandmother had given us an orange and citrus sipper which kept us occupied for a while. Upon finishing our grandmother removed our citrus sippers and threw the spent orange out of the window as we blasted along the interstate at a grand 55 MPH.
Sticky from the orange, tired and cranky from being cramped up in the backseat for several hours my sisters and I began to become restless. It started as it always starts with: “she’s touching me!” …and remember I can’t stand sticky things. I don’t really liked being touched so sticky hands touching me set me off. As the problems escalated my mother made the announcement: “you kids straighten up or I’ll pull this car over!” Now we knew we had a few more warnings coming so we continued, or at least we thought we had a few more warnings. My grandmother also knew what was coming and she was trying to calm the situation.
The additional warning never came. Mother yanked the steering wheel to the right and slammed on the brakes. The girls, the suitcases, oranges and I gently slid to the front of the vehicle. Mother reached over the back seat and started from right moving to the left. Our grandmother was watching in horror as the “beatings” began. I laid on the far left pinned to the front seat by a suitcase and helpless to only watch as my mom went from Karla to Starla and then to me. My beating was not as bad since she had tired by the time she got to me. When mother was done with us we were all in tears quietly sobbing to ourselves. Actually, Starla and I were sobbing before she even got to us. Mother put the car in gear and our trip continued down the interstate. My grandmother, feeling bad for my sisters and I tried to make us feel better by handing each of us an orange and a citrus sipper. About 60 miles down the road it all started over agian.
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