Recently I've just refound this old photo and as I'm the only one to know or remember the story of when and why, I thought I'd best write it down while I'm still able.
Taken 1960, Tiskilwa, IL
To even begin to explain this picture, I'm going to have to take you back to my childhood days of the 40's and 50's
Dad had a lead foot and hated to have a car pass him on the road, I've rode with him when he had made arrangements to race someone on the highway in the Princeton-Tiskilwa area.
Dad had his own little tricks before a race, adding air to the tires, removing the air-cleaner, emptying out the trunk of everything to cut down on the weight and last but for sure not least a trip to the drug store where at that time you could buy either by the quart (this went into the gas tank)
A race in those days was nothing but 2 cars setting side by side on a straight stretch of highway, someone would blow their horn and the winner was whomever got to a predetermined spot first. Most of the time someplace about a mile away. (most highways at certain times of the day were deserted, The road from Princeton to Tiskilwa just after the canal bridge to the RR tracks was one of Dads favorite spots.
1960 I'm home on leave driving a 1957 Ford, almost every day I would be helping at the mill, after work one day I followed Dad home to Tiskilwa, Dad in his Chevy wagon, me in the ford, after crossing the canal bridge Dad stopped in the road and motioned me up besides him (want to try the ford out?)
As a young man I had all of Dad's habits (good and bad) SURE! Dad blew his horn and away we went HA that Chevy made my old ford act like it was a model A. When I got to the house Dad was waiting in the yard, he never said a word but had a big grin on his face
Now my stepmothers brother had a wrecking yard just outside of Princeton, besides the wrecking yard he drove cars on the local circle tracks and sold speed equipment. The next day I was there bright and early, told him what had happened and knowing my Dad he had a big belly laugh. To make a long story short two days later he told me the old ford would keep up with Dad's Chevy. (some sort of camshaft, dual exhausts and three stromberg 97's setting on top of that flathead ford)
That day I drove to the mill and after work followed Dad home. Kenneth rode with me and Terry rode with Dad. When we crossed the canal bridge Dad (as I knew he would) stopped and motioned me up beside him, he blew his horn and away we went
When Dad pulled into the yard he never said a word, walked over to the ford, pulled the hood release, looked and then still never saying anything walked into the house.
I took the photo just a few seconds later of Kenneth and Terry admiring the engine that left Dad in the dust
Today you can take the photo and the story and with about $2.00 buy a cup of coffee but it's just a small tad of my families history that maybe someday a descendent of mine might relate to.
