The Limo

That is me on the left and younger sister on the right. People thought our car was a hearse. Dad said no, later told me it was a funeral car, but he said no, because he thought we would be afraid to ride in it if he told the truth. It was neat; had three rows of seats, the middle set in the back, folded down, making it a novelty to classmates. Our orange army truck or van was also known by kids around town.

I am going to say "with eight kids" needed those vehicles; dad did use the orange truck to transport work stuff ~ wheelbarrows, ladders, bags of cement and such. The seats were along either side of the truck, rather like benches. I say "eight" rather than nine because by the time baby brother, Larry, was born, older siblings were less likely to be along for the ride. He was five-years-old when oldest sister married; second oldest sister likely off to college by that time.

You probably can not tell from photo that our street was not paved at the time. No, that is not our house behind the car, it is the church next door. Talk about noise! The space from upstairs back bedroom was closer to the church than Chris' apartment is to mine. Sundays meant loud sermons, lots of singing; the type of church that had services in morning and evening. Maybe in afternoon also.

Across the street, next to other house visible in photo, was a junk yard. Today that junk yard is "the Social Security building" and parking lot. A lot more traffic now than when the street was unpaved.