1960 Ramler

Rambling On
by Gail Cory-Betz

My Daddy’s Mother, my Grandma, drove like a bat out of hell. She started driving when she was young, and could drive anything that had wheels on it. I spent a lot of summer vacations on my grandparent’s farm, so, of course, I was strongly influenced by my Grandma.

One summer, when I was 12 or 13, I was helping my Grandpa cut up firewood with a two-man saw. He didn’t have a pick-up truck to haul it to the house, and instead, used the capacious trunk of his 1960 Rambler Classic to get it to the woodshed near the house.

Out in the big shed, Grandpa had an old couch where he liked to sneak a nap, and one day after filling and emptying the Rambler, he tossed me the keys and told me to “run that last load up to the house, but don’t let your Grandma catch you or we’ll both be in hot water.”

Well, I had watched him turn on the key, press the buttons marked “D” and “R,” and of course I knew how to steer a bicycle, so I had no trepidations about getting behind the wheel.

Off I went, in a nice straight line to the house, unloaded the wood, and carefully backed the car down the lane to the shed. And I was feeling mighty pleased with myself, until I looked up and saw Grandma running towards me, with her apron flapping in the breeze, hollering, “Victor! Why did you let her drive the car?”

Sheepishly, Grandpa arose from the couch and confessed that it was, indeed, his idea. Then he reminded Grandma that that’s how her uncle had taught her to drive; just gave her keys and let her go.

PHOTO: 1960 Rambler Classic.

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AUTHOR’S PHOTO CAPTION: My grandparents’ farm near Lacey, Washington. The Rambler is to the far right.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Gail Cory-Betz is a retired Registered Nurse who lives in rural Northeast Washington State. She is a community theatre actor, playwright, and Grandma who loves to share stories.