Cars and cruising Main

Growing up in Alex, there wasn't a lot to do since a town of 500 people doesn't have a lot of recreational opportunities to offer. Most social events revolved around school activities. Usually, if it was an evening activity, that meant "dragging main" with friends. Although I didn't own a car during my high school years, I had other friends with wheels.
Kids used to drag main from the corner of the Methodist Church south to Hwy. 42 (Cenex corner), with U-turns at both ends. Back in those days there was no four-way stop by Security State Bank. That would've just put a crimp in our cruising style. So glad we didn't have to deal with it back then. Sometimes cars would break out of the lineup and drive all the way north to the end of Main Street and loop back through town before rejoining the parade.
My good friend, Barry Vlasman, drove an old brown Pontiac with an eight-track tape deck, and after play practice we'd cruise Main and listen to the Grass Roots. My good friend Jerry Erpenbach (Erp) drove a dark blue pickup; we'd hop in, drag main for a while, then cruise outside of town -- usually down to Lake Hanson for a quick loop through the beach area -- and down side streets before joining the procession back on Main Street.
My former brother-in-law and good friend, Jeff Van Pelt, drove an old, beat up baby blue Volkswagen Beetle that had no heater. I remember rodding around Alex with Jeff in that thing. It was a struggle to stay warm during the winter months.
I was a high school senior before I found the courage and had the desire to ask Dad to borrow the family's blue Ford Fairlane. It took all the courage I could muster in the first place, and I'd warm up by asking Mom first. Her response was always, "Go ask your Dad. It's his car." And so after administering an inner pep talk, I'd ask Dad. He was always fair and good to me, and never denied me use of the family car as long as I was responsible, so I don't know why I had so much trouble asking. And, of course, I put $2 worth of gasoline in the car to pay for the gas I burned.
Once or twice, I even borrowed Terry's orange Karmen Ghia. What a remarkable, enjoyable little car that was. With a stick shift on the floor. My first experience driving a stick shift was when Pat & Frank let me drive their AMC Gremlin. And over the years I owned many manual transmission cars -- several Geos and the blue Chevy Cavalier, but now I've reverted to automatic transmissions again. One of my most memorable trips with a stick shift was once when I lived in Canistota and I cut my right hand deeply near the thumb, wrapped it in a towel and drove to Sioux Falls to get it stitched up -- all the while shifting gears and trying to avoid getting blood all over everything.
Being the youngest in the family, I remember some of the older brothers' cars -- Terry's green Camaro and his Karmen Ghia, Roger's white Ford, his green Volkswagen beetle and his lime green Plymouth Duster. I remember once Rog and I cruising around Lake Mitchell in his white Ford with the green roof, and listening to the Beatles' "Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" on the tape deck. We must've gone up to see a vampire movie. And the folks had an old Chevy -- I don't recall the year -- and later a silver Rambler, the blue Ford Fairlane and then in later years that large green Pontiac. Dad let me "cut my teeth" on the Ford Fairlane as he would pull over and let me get behind the wheel and get a feel for the wheel.
After college I bought my first car from Terry -- his white Toyota Corolla -- and it was great on gas mileage. Since then I've lost track of all the vehicles I've owned -- a black Ford Courier pickup, a silver Pontiac, Chevy Caprice, Ford S-10 pickup, a couple of mini-vans -- Dodge Caravan and Plymouth Voyager -- green Buick LeSabre, an orange Geo followed by the dark blue Geo that was wrecked, and then a light blue Geo. The Cavalier then followed, along with the beige Buick Regal, the sporty little dark blue Miata, the beige Toyota Corolla I drive to work and the silver Honda CRV that Barb usually drives. Along the way there's been a motorcycle or two -- the 100cc Yamaha I had back in high school, and later when I had the newspapers for a while I had a 350 Honda, but I never felt comfortable enough riding to continue.
My only serious accident came in 1997 while driving home from work when another driver ran a stop sign at the top of the Vermillion Hill and I broadsided him. Fortunately, I was wearing my seatbelt or I would've gone through the windshield. As it was, I suffered only a few cuts (12 staples to close a cut to my head), a bruised knee and a fractured sternum, which caused some intense comfort as I had seriously painful muscle spasms for several days after that. But I spent only one night in the hospital and then recovered at home.