In the late 70's when our twin girls we very young we drove the wagon to a club house my uncle had rented for our Thanksgiving dinner since the family had outgrown my grandparents small home. It was a short drive, maybe 40 miles but it was a adventure and at that time the wagon was long on wear & tear and short on reliability. I had everyone loaded up with time to spare and I had a extra quart of oil just to be safe, about half way there I ran over something and cut a tire, after getting off the road and unloading the food and ice chest to access the spare tire I discovered the square foot platform of the jack was missing. Having to make do with what was in the car and on the side of the road I found a piece of 2" x 6" in the ditch and I wedged rocks front and rear and got the Mrs. & the kids away from the car and jacked it up slowly. I managed to get the tire off and the spare on and let the car down only to see the tire was under inflated. I loaded all the stuff & family back in the wagon and eased on down the road at this point we are in between towns and on old country back roads. Here in the South during this time period there was no cell phones and country stores & gas stations were closed for the holiday so I eased on down the road until I heard a loud boom, the spare blew and I was screwed and we are already late getting to the dinner. All I could do was start walking and trying to find a phone booth at a closed store or a farm house with someone home, I was about to get out of the car when I saw a elderly man coming down the road on a old Ford tractor and I waved him down. I told him my problem and he said he lived about 4 miles back down the road and told me to get on the tractor and he would take me to his house and loan me the spare tire and jack from his car. Long story short the gentleman drove me back to the car in his truck and stayed while I changed the tire and although is spare was a 15" it got me to the Family Thanksgiving dinner, I was only 2 hours late and dirty but the family members were happy to see us. On Friday morning I removed the spare Mr. McClain had loaned me and put it in the back of my pickup and drove back to his farm, upon arrival I thanked him and offered to pay him for his generosity, something I had totally neglected to do the previous day but he refused any payment and said he was glad he could help. When I got to the end of his long dirt driveway I stop and grabbed a ink pen out of the glove box and wrote "Thank You" on a twenty dollar bill, walked across the road to his big mail box and stuck it inside, I never saw Mr. McClain again, judging his age at the time I'm sure he has met his maker many years ago but when I think of Mr. McClain I'm sure I wasn't the only person that he offered to help on that long lonely stretch of country road at one time or another. He was a true Southern Gentleman. This morning I drove the same wagon few miles to Ingle's Grocery store for those last minute items and was thinking about that thanksgiving so many years ago.HRP
Hello, As I am sitting here watching the rainstorm just beat the crap out of our windows and doors, I can’t help but think about the past Long Beach teenage Thanksgiving stories. Being the youngest of two brothers, it was my spot in the family to get bossed around to do odd jobs. Then, my brother announced to me that we were going to Baja, Mexico for our Thanksgiving Vacation. It was his treat for the both of us. His older teenage outlook on life was… “If they didn’t want us to take a vacation, why would school call it a Thanksgiving Vacation?” (these days. It is called a Thanksgiving Recess or Holiday) My brother would have had a field day with those names… But for us during these late 50s and early 60s time periods, it was Thanksgiving Vacation. On a Monday after school, the ball got rolling. On Tuesday, we mentioned it to my parents at dinner. That was a big shock to them, but on my mom’s face, a sigh of relief. No more cooking all day on Thursday !!! I could not go unless I had a signed parental release stating it was OK to be in Baja with my brother. That took some doing, but they both relented and I got my border pass, just in case we got stopped at the crossing going or coming back. He took care of prepping the cars we would be riding down the coast approximately 200 miles to Baja. Now, that the road was clear to go on a vacation, I was given the job of shopping at the grocery store for lunch and dinner items. Cereal and milk was a normal, fast, simple breakfast. But for lunches and especially dinners, I had to be creative. So, for two lunches, as much as I loved canned Spam, I planned on canned Vienna Sausages and rolls. (like mini hot dogs, which we both loved) and for two dinners, Dinty Moore canned stew. I did bring along several cans of Spam which worked out for extra sandwiches for late, after noon snacks. (My idea was the meals were fast prep and consumption, leaving more time for surfing.) The last night, Saturday, we were all going to go buy some giant steaks and have a cliff side, beach front, barbecue. When I got home with the groceries, my brother laughed and said as nice as it was, he was not going to have Vienna Sausages, Spam, and Dinty Moore Stew. He said he was going to have fresh hamburgers for lunch and hamburger steaks for dinner, cooked out side on the cliff, barbecue grill. It sounded nice, but I liked the cans that I bought, allowing me minimum time out of the surf. Plus, I had no money to spend on fresh ground hamburger. Jnaki When we got to the secret Baja Surf Spot, the Vienna sausages were a big hit and I had plenty to trade others for various sandwiches. My brother had to go into town to buy some fresh ground beef and when he got back, it was already turning various colors. He was tempted, but the waves were so good that he threw the funny, ground hamburger away and ate my Vienna sausages. He was right back into the waves afterwards. At dinner, he decided to have a can of Dinty Moore Stew instead of the rest of the funny ground beef purchased earlier. His ending comment was something to the effect of… “at least we did not get sick from bad food.” Tried and true camping food never goes wrong… The waves were outstanding with only our Long Beach crew and a few friends from Seal Beach in the water. That was the planned Thanksgiving Vacation episode in the early 60s, 200 miles away from home. Another thing was that the car prep my brother did lasted and did not falter, even on the Pemex gas. What about my parents? They were happy to be "alone" and went to several nice restaurants in Los Angeles on Thursday & Friday nights. They even went to one in Long Beach on Saturday night. It was their vacation from us, too.
Not much car stuff for me to speak of. but I love turkey n stuffing , ham all the fixin’s. Drink to much beer Apple n pumpkin pie Coffee Congnac More beer Left over for a midnight snack More beer the next day a bloated belly a hangover over and some of the most room evacuating turkey farts any man or animal has unleashed on the poor world.
One of my Dad’s pearls of wisdom was delivered to me at the Thanksgiving dinner table when I was maybe 12 years old or so. I guess Mom was stressing out about getting everything just right and to the table. Dad leaned over to me as she headed back to the kitchen and quietly said “I wish she wouldn’t worry so much about it. It’s all going to turn to shit in a few hours anyways.” Funny I never forgot that, nor did I ever tell her.
We are the grandparent's now and hosting the Thanksgiving meal is stressful for Brenda, she is a excellent cook but she gets started the night before by putting the ham's in the crock pot a and up at the crack of dawn making all the preparations and cooking the meal and the pastries. All I am responsible for is footing the bill & smoking the turkeys, Being grandparents we have learned what our predecessors knew, it takes a long time to cook everything and once the blessing is said, the forks are flying, everyone gets quiet and before you know it their is a stack of dirty dishes in the sink. I did something I never saw my grandad or my dad do on Thanksgiving, they always got up from the table and turned on a football game on TV, I actually helped Brenda clean up and I washed dishes. All in all we had a great day, I hope you guys did. HRP
One Thanksgiving memory that came to mind for me today was from about 25 years ago and before I was married. Back then, I always used days off like Thanksgiving to work on cars at my shop. Anyway, I can’t remember exactly what I was working on that day but do remember going down to a local gas station for lunch since it was the only place in town open. They had deli sandwiches and I was sure not to order a turkey sandwich so they wouldn’t think that was my only Thanksgiving meal even though it was.
When I was about 17 I had spent the day working on my car. I had the heads off and was working on getting it back together. I came in mid day for lunch and I remember my mom asking if I wanted her to make my sandwich since my hands were filthy. Being a smart assed teen, I said I was going to eat it with my dirty hands so I was just fine making it that way. She hadn't made my lunch for probably 10 years at that point. Later that day I mowed the yard and all the guests showed up. I was still grubby dirty. My parents were not impressed. Devin
2009 Thanksgiving Weekend my daughter Samantha and I took a trip to Winston Salem North Carolina . To participate in a Regional Race for Derby that turned into her First Event Win ....doing so she defeated the previous summers National Champion for her division !
1990. I went to the very last race at Ascot Park Gardena. The annual running of the Thanksgiving night USAC Turkey Night Grand Prix for midgets. IIRC 106 midgets attempted to qualify. The race ended very late, well past midnight. After the race many of the fans, including myself, elected to walk the half mile at about 1:45 am. Finally, walking out the main entrance for the last time, I noticed the people leaving the Press Box door, also for the last time, and their expressions, on all their faces, was that of seeing a friend for the very last time. Profoundly somber. That was some night. I'm happy I was there.
One unusual Thanksgiving story for me that comes to mind this AM is 1980. Took my then girlfriend/now wife to California to watch the Turkey night Midget races at Ascot park, I was involved in Midget racing at this time, I wanted to see Ascot Park, heard so much about it, now gone like many racetracks and a mini vacation. We land, take shuttle bus to car rental, north of LAX, Not in a Good neighborhood at 2AM IMO, get car, drive 1 mile, radiator hose blows off, return, get different car, turn north instead of south, neighborhood really turns to shit/scary, turn around go south and get to Redondo beach, nice/area/marina/ motel. We sightsee, Queen Mary, Hollywood, spend second night North Hollywood, in Motel that the restaurant revolved over the nightline, beautiful. Now we go to the race, rainout, the only rainout in history of race I was told, sightsee some more, decide to drive to Phoenix for Midget race at Manzanita, now gone, another place with big history, setting in restaurant with other racers, rained out, it never rains out. OK now I decide to drive to Las Vegas to spend a few days there, that part went well, only interesting part was the road, Wisconsin is flat, the ride up the mountains was exciting, you don't want to get on/off the shoulder( very narrow, no guardrails ) and fall down the mountain, for sure you would die. The rain stopped and we saw beautiful rainbows and we saw the end of the rainbow moving across the valley casting a golden hue on a large area as it moved, Outstanding/Beautiful, I have only seen this one time since and never before this, that alone was worth the trip and a great memory.
HRP... great story. Have you ever wondered what the mailman thought when he delivered Mr McClains mail and found that $20 bill.
Only a few memories of past Thanksgiving. One good, two no so much, one kind of funny. The two bad ones: One was when I was around 11-years old, (1956). My dog somehow got out of the house, and no one noticed. When I did, I went looking for him on my bike and found him down the highway, on the side of the road. He'd been hit by a car and was dead. I lifted him up and put him in my wire newspaper carrier basket mounted on the front handle bars, rode back to the house and buried him. Didn't tell my parents until after everyone had left. The other was when I was 13, my dad died 2-days before Thanksgiving. My best one, was when I went to my brother-in-laws's parent's farm for Thanksgiving. I was around 9 or 10 and would go out to his barn, climb on his Ford tractor and pretended I was driving it, shifted the gears, turned the steering wheel and day-dreamed it was a car I was driving. The funny one was around 1980, I was in Harbin, China with two other guys from my company, installing some large machine tools and training operators how to use them in a Tractor plant. We were there for 8-weeks and unfortunately, Thanksgiving fell during that stretch. We joked around with our interpreter and told him that Thanksgiving was a religious day for us and we had to have Turkey for our dinner. He took us seriously and that night, apologized and said the hotel's chef couldn't find any Turkey outside of a Zoo, in China. We felt bad and told him that was OK and not to worry about it. That evening, they surprised us with a Peking Duck dinner with all the trimmings, including the head still attached to the duck ! Every time I see the "Christmas Story" movie with Ralphie & family at the Chinese restaurant, I recall our Thanksgiving feast. It was the best meal we had in China, by the way !
Back in the 60's in my early teens, we had finished up Thanksgiving dinner and a friend & I decided to go squirrel hunting, I had a old single shot Ted Williams 22 and had killed about 4 and had loaded them into the big pockets on the camouflage coat and I reached in my pocket to get another 22 when something latched down on my trigger finger, one of the squirrels evidently wasn't dead but had a death grip on my finger. I pulled my hand out and my friend shot the squirrel in the head to get it to let go. When we got back to his house his mom insisted I go to the hospital to get checked out because she just knew the squirrel was rabid, long day at the hospital and I got a tetanus shot and they sent me home. HRP
HRP, 0 races 2 for 2 on rainouts on Cali trip. Being a Wisconsin/Midwest guy rainouts are part of the deal, over the years (with parents 1948 into 70's thru 1991 with my deal) I can remember seasons where the rain out percentage hit 30+ %. The last couple of summers in Wisconsin/ Midwest we've had a lot of rain on Saturday/Sunday, my car show/cruise attendance is way down and I always say, I like the car deal, enjoy the cruise, the people, But I'm way past driving in rain, standing around in rain and driving home in rain. BEEN THERE, DONE THAT ! Myself like all racers loved it, it's a Passion that becomes an Obsession, example, it's raining, call track,(before cell phones) it's on, load car/equipment, call again, it's on, drive 1/2 way, stop call, it's on, get there, It's raining, usually sit around a few hours for the track to cancel, I remember one exception to this, rained all the way there, we saw sky opening at track, never rained there, we raced, took all the money that day, clean sweep, left track, 10 miles, rained All the way home. The SOP for any/all racers in my time frame, rain outs, win or lose, every night only ONE feature winner, close a tavern and then go home ( the Stories I Have) When I got to know racers from CA. or AZ, on their midwest tours, they would say, How do you put up with all the rainouts ? it never rains out west to which I replied it did in November 1980 ask me how I know. LOL
At the age of 17 my family and I move off base and into a house with a garage underneath. This garage had everything, low ceiling, damp, foul smelling but no 220 for our welder. My brother and I rigged up a 220 volt extension cord (not per code) and with a newly drilled hole in the kitchen floor behind the electric stove we had power for the welder. So it is Thanksgiving, my three brothers and my Dad had invited one of the base chaplain's over for dinner. He was an Irish guy who could keep up with the best as far as putting down empty shot glasses. Well we decided to do some welding first thing in the morning and unplug the stove and plug in the welded. We were working, as I remember, on a 56 Nomad frame section right around the rear of the rear springs that was rusted out and we were patching up. We were welding in plates or trying to when my father called down to us that supper was ready. Upon coming up the stairs we could see that both my father and the priest we pretty much on a quest to finish all of the hard stuff in the house. So we are sitting at the table while my father is looking at a still frozen turkey in the kitchen. Need I write more.
When I was a small kid Pop worked construction, he was a pipe weldor. Back then there was no paid holidays, no paid vacation. You didnt work , you didnt get paid, simple as that. So Pop being home on a Thursday was a rare occasion. We raked leaves, and then Pop would climb up in the pecan tree and shake it, and we would pick up pecans. Sometimes we would throw the football up there and try to knock them out. While he was still alive, we would go get my great-grandpa and he would eat with us, because by then he was in his 80's and lived by himself and didnt cook much. After dinner we would burn the leaves and stand around by the fire .( For all you that dont know, here in the South we have Breakfast, Dinner and Supper).
So, at the grandparents and we all sit down...I was maybe 10 yo at the time. Grace before Dinner and grandpa returned thanks....as he always did. "Our Heavenly Father, we mumble mmmmmummble mumbbble, muuuumble mumble, mumble...mumble...amen." I looked at grandpa and said "I didn't understand anything you said" He looked at me over his gold rimmed glasses and replied..." I wasn't talking to you"
This incident started on the Friday night before Thanksgiving, 1957. So that's when I'm starting this tale of 2 hotrodders, I'm starting the story then to give it context. I had only a few weeks before bought my flathead equipped '32 Ford 3 wdw. Was at the local hot rodder's equivalent of Mel's in American Graffiti. Ran into a friend that I hadn't seen since I got the Deuce. A hot rodder himself, Lonnie's Father owned the largest auto salvage yard/ garage/pay here/ we finance everybody, used and abused car sales lot in the area. Of course he wanted a ride and off we went, with me anxious to show off my ride. Well before the night was over, I destroyed the transmission, only high gear left. Lonnie says "Don't sweat it, Daddy's junk yard is full of old Fords, and we'll pull one and install it in his shop Thanksgiving Day" So daylight found me in the Deuce, chugging off in high gear to meet Lonnie at the shop and yard. We found a car already turned up on it's side that Lonnie said had a good trans, pulled it right there, pulled the engine and transmission with the chain hoist hanging from the shop rafters. To the uninitiated, the engine in a Deuce must be pulled to pull the transmission! We installed the replacement trans on the bell housing, reinstalled the assembly, and drove to a country store operated by some of his relatives that was open. There we bought bologna, soda crackers (saltines to Yankees)and soda pop for our Thanksgiving Dinner! Was a day I'll never forget, and I wish I could relive it with Lonnie, who aged as we all do, but never grew up. On a night some 25 years later, while working the midnight shift, we got the call that Lonnie was dead. Shot in the belly by his live in girl friend in a drunken argument. She only wanted to scare him with that shotgun. And that's what he told the Sheriff before he died.
One that is not car related but my '46 Coupe was involved sort of. I was living in a warehouse in Red Wood City and had contacted my sis about Thanks giving dinner. She said she was busy. Called my Dad he was busy too, I knew a bunch of guys from a motorcycle club. They were all busy. So on thanks giving I went to the bar for drinks and pickled eggs. The bar tender (a friend) gets a call that I need to get back to the warehouse right away. So I fired up my bike and hit it. I roll into the lot and my old ford is parked out front. I think what the hell. I bounced to the door flung it open and there was my Dad, his wife, my sis and all the guys I knew from the club inside with a Thanks Giving spread that could not be beat. That's the short version I guess.
The first Thanksgiving with Danny we went to his Grandparents home and met all his aunts, uncles and cousins, after dinner I remember all the men crowded into the small den watching the now famous ice bowl football game, that was in 1967.
The very beginnings of a long and happy life. Your first Thanks Giving is a testimony to all of us, a damned bunch to be thankful for.
Nothing really car related. Growing up my mom always hosted Thanksgiving and my family that lived in the very northern parts of NJ would drive down to central NJ to spend the holiday with us. As time has gone on, I acquired a larger home and now my wife and I host the holiday, which is really nice. We usually have about 10-15 people over, deep fry and bake a turkey, and have more food than we know what to do with. Then everyone sort of catches up and hangs and watches some football before heading home. Last year we lost my great uncle, and my great aunt (his wife) is not doing great either but is tough as nails, and was able to join us this year. Keeping the family together for holidays is an important tradition to me and one that I want to continue now for my daughter.
The Jalopy Journal
