FROM BALLOON TIRES TO PLUG-IN VEHICLES

 

A series of essays….

A SCENE THAT IS BECOMING MORE FAMILIAR EVERY DAY:
PUBLICLY CHARGING OUR ELECTRIC VEHICLES.

                  COURTESY OF DRIVESOCIETY.COM

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

At an early age, I wanted a dark green Jeep! So much so that I called my first two wheeler, with training wheels, painted a light blue, and salvaged from someplace other than Sears and Roebuck, my ‘Little Jeep.’  A shout out to Roy Rogers, Pat Brady, and Nellybelle, Pat’s Jeep. I was as rugged and terrifying on that bike (sans training wheels, eventually) as any little boy on our block! After all — it was my Jeep and I could blaze a new dirt trail with the best of them. Simply conquering a city sidewalk, complete with uneven concrete slabs pushed up at odd angles by the roots of mature maple trees lining the block, was a feat to behold. Affixing a playing card to a spoke with a spring loaded clothespin brought life to my Jeep each time I went out to conquer the rugged terrain of suburban Mishawaka, Indiana.

I was what many people who knew me well called a tomboy. Being rough and tumbled put me in my comfort zone; having an older brother solidified the deal. 

Ronnie got a bike that year, too. It arrived in a huge, flat box that hung out from the trunk of my dad’s powder blue Chevy. My mother’s face beamed with joy when Ronnie first saw the box and realized its contents. Dad looked a bit perplexed as he pulled piece after piece out of the cardboard container until he found the instruction booklet. Saving the assembly fee offered by Sears and doing it himself wasn’t the option dad particularly preferred right about then. But, with a little time, a few swear words whispered under his breath, and mom’s help, the job got done and Ronnie was the proud owner of a very fancy new bike.

MY BALLOON TIRE “LITTLE JEEP”

MY OLDER BROTHER’S ENGLISH RACER

And there it was, parked in our driveway, an ‘English Racer’ — a maroon Schwinn with 3-speeds and handbrakes, a small basket on each side of the back tire, and the skinniest, white walled, 26-inch tires I could ever imagine! Thin, gray wires protruded from the low profile, racing handlebars to each tire and small switches and levers lined the sleek curvature of the bars themselves. It all looked so futuristic and exotic to this five-year old kid. My big brother was going to be able to fly through our neighborhood like an Indy race car on its Memorial Day run, all revved-up and powered by fine-tuned mechanics and super human adrenaline. 

All I wanted to see right then was Ronnie up on that narrow seat and balanced on those skinny tires that made my balloon tires look like my grandmother’s ankles after working on her feet all day. Of course, he managed, although there was a learning curve when it came to adjusting to the three speed positions and use of the handbrakes. Everyone called these 3-speed bikes English Racers referring to the riders in Europe who rode the Super Dome bike tracks for speed and fame. Funny, our English Racers weren’t really racing bikes, but they sure looked like it to all of us. And, I don’t know where Ronnie’s ended up, but I’m certain he got his mileage out of that beautiful bike.

NELLYBELLE THE JEEP
FROM THE ROY ROGER’S TV SHOW

Ronnie, when not off on a wild adventure of his own, soon became our Uber Driver, Shipt Shopper, and GrubHub delivery service while dad was traveling around the Midwest for his job. Since mom never had a license to drive, his role during the week on that speedy English Racer made life a bit less hectic for the three of us left at home.

With the influence of my dad leading the way, my love of bikes eventually turned into a love affair with the automobile. Keeping the memory of the green Jeep close to my heart, Dan and I contemplated purchasing a Jeep Wrangler shortly after we were married in the autumn of ‘73 after he’d applied for construction jobs in Eugene, Oregon. We had hoped to blaze our own trails out on the West Coast but never made it out there and did not invest in a Wrangler, either. Instead, our first vehicle together was a midnight blue, stick shift, Pontiac Firebird Esprit with white interior. The purchase price was somewhere in the range of $3,500 and quite a bargain for two twenty-three year olds.

I had to wait a little while for my very own ‘English Racer,’ but, it was well worth it. I loved that car.

Eventually, after our two daughters were old enough to appreciate the ride, we purchased a 1984 Pontiac Trans Am with T-Tops and built-in roll bar. With its V-8 engine and super easy maneuverability, we spent many sunny road trips with the wind blowing our hair into a frenzy and having no particular destination in mind. We would just follow the broken white lines and take pleasure in the scenery and the ride.

Dad always told us to enjoy every vehicle we had by taking good care of it no matter what model or year it was. Our car was the ticket we needed to explore any road we wanted and would lead us to places we never knew existed. In this regard, he was a very wise man. Where dad lacked patience in other fields, we knew that when it came to driving the family car on vacation road trips at sixteen, he was the one who allowed us to take charge and do the right thing without fear of repercussions. In other words, he trusted us being in charge and that gave us the confidence we needed to sit behind the wheel.

The self-assurance dad instilled in all four of us kids created our respect and love of the automobile. He really should have owned his own dealership. He would have been an amazing salesman with such passion and determination to back him up. Although, working for the Sinclair Oil Corporation and Quaker State Motor Oil Company placed him as close to his beloved cars as possible. We would move as a family at least once a year in order to keep his dream alive and soon became ‘nomads for the cause’ and learned to adjust out of necessity.

I don’t know how dad would have reacted to the latest venture of helping to save the world via the electric car complete with its rechargeable batteries and multiple charging stations throughout the country. This concept would seem to go against every principle he ever stood for or believed in. This was a man who enjoyed getting dirty while changing the oil in his car; who used to chide about Ethyl octane gas and jokingly ask who was Ethyl, anyway?; wash his hands raw with Lava Soap after a weekend of working on the car, and made a decent living for his family by selling the very products, gas and oil, that electric cars are eliminating. 

Respecting change is what it’s all about and dad was of the generation that ran away from change; embraced the attitude that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. I think he might have tried to talk me out of what I know and believe I should do in order to create as small of a footprint on this earth as possible. As an adult, I have wanted an electric car for a long time. Now, living up in Michigan again, there are certain prerequisites that slide into the ‘must have’ category when thinking of purchasing any new vehicle and having 4-wheel drive marks the number one slot. 

2021 FORD BRONCO

For now, I am seriously looking at the new and modernized Ford Bronco this time around, but waiting for the premier of their electric model slated for 2022. I know dad must be rolling over in his grave right about now having been a Chevrolet (at least a General Motors) man most of his life. However, I’m finding a huge likeness between my ‘Little Jeep’ from many years ago and the Ford Bronco. It has just enough ruggedness built into it along with plenty of panache to match a sleek English Racer, any day — all while keeping an intelligent outlook towards the future of clean driving. 

On second thought, I think my dad would be proud of my decision. 

ALL EYES TO THE FUTURE!

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

 

 

FRIENDSHIP NEVER FADES

 A series of essays.....

ENJOYING TIME TOGETHER IN CELEBRATION, FLORIDA

.....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

Friendship may seem to disappear for a little while but, it never fades away into oblivion. Human nature does not forget the strong bond that is formed between friends, even when circumstances can tuck it away into the folds of time, only to resurface once again as strong and beautiful as ever.

The soft clinking sound of one crystal wine glass tapping another, coupled with yet another toast to health, good cheer, and priceless friendship renewed, still rings in my ears. I sit here this morning, i-Pad on my lap, feeling just a little bit lonely; a tiny bit sad. Our friends have moved on to the second phase of their Floridian excursion before traveling back home to Michigan, but their laughter continues to reverberate, sweetly, in my head.

I met Janis the year my parents decided to make the move up to Three Rivers, Michigan from Terre Haute, Indiana in order to help my grandparents run the laundry and dry cleaning establishment they had built-up through the years. It meant that we'd finally be settling down in one place instead of changing towns and schools every year to follow my dad's employment with the Sinclair Oil Corporation and Quaker State Motor Oil Companies. 

It turned out to be one of the best years of my life!

Thrust into an high school environment as an eighth grader, it was easy to see how, at a very young age, we were influenced by the upperclassmen. Back in the day, Three Rivers High School included an eighth-grade program. We had to learn to blend in with everybody in order to survive. Janis and I had several classes together, shared a sense of adventure, understood the importance of study ethics, and maintained Honor Roll status throughout our high school careers! We just clicked, immediately.

Even though we moved on to different colleges upon graduation from TRHS, we always kept in touch and visited one another at Alma College, Janis' alma mater, and, ultimately, Michigan State University, for me. 

Janis, eventually, moved to East Lansing, Michigan and I invited her to move into the apartment I had been sharing with several girlfriends I had, initially, met on campus while living at Shaw Hall. And, it just so happened that a really nice looking guy from Jackson, Michigan lived in the apartment above us with several other roommates. Well, Janis and Fred began dating one another and, as the old adage goes, the rest is history, folks!

Dan and I had been dating while I still lived in the dorm on campus and he had already moved to a house apartment located on Evergreen, north of Grand River Avenue, the main street that runs through East Lansing. The four of us hung-out together quite often during this time. 

Well, let's just say that Janis wore a gorgeous shade of pink as a bridesmaid at our wedding and I.....well, I served as an 'honorary bridesmaid' at hers two years later because I had been considerably pregnant at the time. It was not my desire to draw any attention away from the actual ceremony by waddling down the church aisle along with the wedding party. But, we were there, once again, cheering each other on as life took its course, babies were born, addresses changed, and challenges arose.

SO MANY MEMORIES.....!

Not long afterward, Dan and I had ensconced ourselves in the life rhythms of the small town of Eaton Rapids. Fred and Janis, not far away in Holt, located just south of East Lansing, were raising their young family. But, as I've stated before, life has a tendency of getting in the way.....even when involving strong friendships. New faces emerge from each new experience until old friends get tucked away as creative memories drifting through time like colorful autumn leaves wistfully navigating their earthbound flights.

My path was to follow Dan down here to Orlando, Florida after our youngest daughter, Corinne, completed her freshman year at Michigan State. Our oldest daughter, Alexandria, was interning at Walt Disney World at the time and, eventually, was employed full-time in Procurement in the business offices at WDW. Somehow, someway....twenty plus years have transpired, Dan is responsible for building quite a few multi-family apartment projects in the area, and Orlando has become our established home.

LITTLE, YELLOW COTTAGE

Now, both of our children reside in Kalamazoo/Portage, Michigan along with their own families and we have come to realize that moving back to Michigan after retirement, to be with them, is going to be the next chapter in our lives. We have begun to establish ourselves within this amazing community by purchasing the cutest, little house ever built in Kalamazoo!! Well, at least we think so. Built in 1941, our little yellow cottage is a work in progress but, a project based on the sheer joy of rejuvenating this small gem into a comfortable home where grandchildren are always welcome and cookies will certainly be baking in the oven....!

Returning to Michigan, even on a part-time basis for the past few years, has changed us forever and, in a very good way. Yes, we share in our children's lives ten times more than before, which has, in turn, enhanced our sense of well-being and balance. We are enriching our outlook on life through the power of the arts with so much credit going out to our friend, Michael, and his adorable wife, Marsha. Michael, a local artist and architect, along with Marsha, a librarian/writer in the town of Portage for many years, have greatly changed our lives for the better. Together, they have proven to us that Kalamazoo has so much to offer through the local talent of painters, writers, sculptors, poets, educators, and more, all intertwined to help create a Mecca for other artists willing to immerse themselves in their particular activity or interest.

Right before we made the solid commitment to Kalamazoo by purchasing a second home, something absolutely brilliant happened! I was invited to lunch. Not just any lunch, either. Several old friends from high school got together at a local restaurant, Food Dance, in downtown Kalamazoo (I like typing that word!) and, low and behold, Janis and I sat there, side-by-side, having lunch together after all of these years!

The amazing part was that only a few moments in, she and I were talking and acting as though the time that had passed between us had never seemed to matter. We picked-up where we'd left off and our friendship began to blossom once more. Like a flower in springtime, the colors of friendship were bright and stunning, with stems as strong as a long-stem rose, and the possibilities, endless. Conversation flowed. Goodness knows we had a few years to catch-up on.

JANIS AND FRED

Today I sit on my living room couch brooding because they have come and they have already gone. The four of us had such a wonderful few days together. Jan and Fred enjoyed the tour of our beautiful, albeit spread-out, adopted home, Orlando, and the surrounding area. After the laughing, crying, reminiscing, and partaking in good food and spirits....our house is quiet again. The 'battery fed' clocks hanging on our walls tick-and-tock into my subconscious like they never do when this house is full of people and uncontrolled laughter. Just as it did this past holiday season when all of our children were here celebrating and filling-up the bedrooms with their pleasant nighttime breathing.

Hairstyles may be notably shorter and interspersed with grays, as only our hairstylists know for sure, and minute lines collect on our faces like soft, Victorian lace denoting character and a full life, but the soul.....ah, the soul and a person's spirit never really changes at all. Time passes before us controlling our ultimate destinies, but in what manner and for how long we choose to communicate with those we share breath with is entirely up to us. 

Janis and I have always shared the spirit for living, enjoyed the world around us, and spread as much love as possible to everyone, near and far. That will never change. They will return here, as we will travel north to share more time with them. It is inevitable. It is fate. It is written in the stars.

However, in the meantime, oh, how I wish we didn't have so many 'battery fed' clocks hanging in this house!

JOY!

Copyright © 2017 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved