The rain stopped for no one, not even for the men loading the truck. Mud was tracked throughout the house and I can remember my mother sweeping and mopping, trying to keep the floor clean for the new owners. They moved in the back door as we hauled furniture out the front door. The rain was turning to snow now as it was getting late, after 5:00pm. It was not a good time to start a 500-mile trip, but start we did on December 1st 1950. Furniture and machinery filled two trucks that were driven by friends. My dad drove a pickup with my sister, Mona along for company. I rode in the car with my mom and Myrtle, my brother’s mother-in-law. My brother George, and his new wife Marlene drove a ton truck loaded with horses.
I was eight years old and I don’t remember being told that we were moving. I don’t remember packing clothes or toys. I do remember an autograph book that I took to school for my teachers and friends to write in so I would remember them. Little “ditties” filled my book; “Roses are red, violets are blue, sorry you’re leaving, I’ll miss you.” I still have that book. I ask Mom why we moved, leaving behind my oldest sister and her family. She said, maybe, it was to get away from so many relatives.
We moved from the house in Porterville, Utah where I was born to Lake Fork, Idaho. Freeways, studded tires and four-wheel drives were unheard of in those days, so we just headed out with what we had. Things went well until Snowville, Utah, then the snow started coming down faster than the windshield wipers could work and the wind was blowing a gale as cars and trucks spun out, sliding and ending up crosswise of the road. Sanding barrels along side the road provided sand that could be shoveled from then onto the road, giving motor vehicles much needed traction. The Men sanded and pushed until we reached the top of the hill and then it was almost as scary going down the other side. We had supper in a café in Snowville, then started on our way again.
I must have gone to sleep because the next thing I remember is going into what I thought was someone’s house. I had never heard of a motel. We had traveled about 200 miles and were in Burley, Idaho. It was midnight.
The next morning dawned sunny and clear and the road stretched before us, another 300 miles to Lake Fork. A flat tire on one of the big trucks near Boise, held us up and I was really getting tired and bored after being on the road for so long. To entertain me, Myrtle told me stories and when that no longer worked, she resorted to making faces and pushing her false teeth out to make me laugh. That helped pass the last few miles rather quickly, but it was dark when we pulled into Lake Fork. We turned off onto a gravel road and started the last three-miles to our new ranch, pushing snow all the way. The key hadn’t been left under the mat, so one of the front windows in the house was pried up far enough for my dad to push me through, so I could unlock the door from the inside. While Mom started a fire and fixed something to eat, the horses were unloaded and fed. After we had eaten, beds were made and everyone went to bed as it was after 10pm. My dreams that night didn’t come close to what my life would be like in this new land.
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