In the years when I was, still attending high school the beginning of the new school year began differently. Number one was I never began to a new year in the month of August. School seemed to be more connected to Labor Day. The new year began most times the day after Labor Day and the first day was a little less than a half of a day to attend. (Unless you were, a teacher and they had to stay a full day.)
It seemed that most years we were housing tobacco and if that was the case I went that first day with a note from my dad requesting that I be allowed to miss school until we were done. Since Felicity is a rural farm community, the request wan never considered out of line or out of the question. I recall one year though we had finished before school had begun. This meant that since my mom was a teacher and my dad was working in Batavia and I was going home before noon I would have to find a meal and entertain myself.
This also was the year in which I had obtained my driver’s license in June and bought a nice used car in July. The year was 1965. The car was a fire engine red Ford Galaxy 500 which was a 1963 model. On that first day of school, I of course drove that car to school and my good friend Charlie Marshall rode to and from school with me. On the drive home from Felicity, we began to think out just how we could entertain ourselves. A few thoughts came to mind but none that kept our interests very much or very long. Finally we decided it was a sunny day and it would be a great time to just cruise. As to where and why we were going to cruise had yet to be put in order but we didn’t see where there would be much of a problem on that topic as with an entire afternoon we would just cruise everywhere.
As we were laying out the afternoon, I noticed my gas tank was almost on empty, which will always cramp cruising. Now a few years before then my dad had been approached by Sinclair Oil and was made an offer he couldn’t refuse. At the time, we had an above ground gasoline tank that held about 200 gallons and had a hand crank pump. The gas was used mainly for farm purposes only. The man from Sinclair offered a 550 gallon tank that was to be buried and an electric gas pump just like the ones used in the gas stations. The tank was buried beside our brick outbuilding that also had a spring house setup where milk cans had once been kept to keep cool as the water came from an artesian spring that never stopped feeding cool water into the spring house and there was a drain tile on the other side that allowed the water to flow on trough to a spring below that building.
Therefore, we were out of gas and since I was doing the farming, for the most part I made an executive decision. I decided that I needed to use some of that gas, as I was sure my car got used for farming purposes a lot. So we filled the tank all the way up. (I figured I had used my car a lot.) So now, with a full tank and a plan for that afternoon ‘Charlie and I took off with our first destination being Moscow. As we took off we rolled those windows down and cranked the radio that was tuned to WSAI and we were just singing along when after no more than a mile and a half from our house the car began to lose power and came to a slow stop. The radio had been so load we had failed to hear that the engine wasn’t running. (in those days most cars didn’t have power steering or power brakes)
Fruit Ridge is a county road that carried little traffic and on the lower end of it, there weren’t homes except one and we learned there was nobody home that afternoon. So there we sat. Stranded with a car that wouldn’t start. For about twenty minutes, we sat on the hood of the car and hoped someone would drive by us. Finally, a car appeared and stopped. At this time, I can’t recall just who it was but they knew us and gave us a lift to the gas station at the end of route 743 and the intersection of US 52. This was Gauges Ashland Gas Station.
In the mid ‘60s gas, stations were abundant throughout the countryside. Now this place was owned by Ed and Charlotte Gauges and their sons Wayne and Ward. At that time, they sold gas and would change your oil and maybe change your spark plugs and points. Basic jobs needed on a car along with a new battery and sell you antifreeze. If you ever watched Andy Griffith this station reminded one of Wally’s gas station where Gomer worked. It was a small station but the owners were so well known and liked that the community seemed to always make a stop for something at least once a day. Along with gas was probably the newest of the area gossip.
One item they had that day was a tow truck. Wayne drove out and towed my car in and he and his dad began to analyze just why my car would not start. They checked the alternator and the carburetor first then Wayne thought it might be a cracked distributor. As they worked folks, would stop and offer a thought such as maybe a bad spark plug and one lady ask if they had checked in the radiator to which both Ed and Wayne laughed.
Now as the folks came through the station and one part would be checked and not be the problem Charlie and I were standing off to the side sipping on a half warm Pepsi and eating some half stale cheese crackers and watching what was to be a fun time fade away. I am sure you all know that when you are having a great time the clock flies and when you are standing in a gas station and the car won’t start that clock looks as though it has stopped altogether.
Around six o’clock a man named Roy Brooks who worked in a post office in Norwood had stopped to get some gas and he as did the others came in to see the main event for that day. He stood there for a few moments and then asks them if they had checked the gas lines for water. They hadn’t but when they did, they found that the lines were pure water. That underground tank had rusted a hole in it and a full tank of gasoline had leaked into the springhouse and the water took its place. Therefore, I had filled up on nothing but water. Having found this they drained the tank and poured some stuff in to it to pull out the moisture. After that, my car started on the first try. We learned that our drinking supply at home had a very high octane odor for a few days. Nobody smoked near the faucets either.
As for Charlie and myself we never got that cruise in and we really didn’t have any fun either. Most of all we learned crime does not pay!
Rick Houser grew up on a farm near Moscow in Clermont County and loves to share stories about his youth and other topics. If you are interested in reading more of his stories they can be found in his books ‘There are Places to Remember” and’ Memories ARE from the Heart.” He may be reached at houser734@yahoo.com or mail to P.O. Box 213 Bethel, Ohio 45106.