Remembering the past

To my dear readers: I truly enjoy sharing my memories with you through the medium of our local community newspaper, and I have greatly appreciated your kind words about them. Many of you ask how I can remember so much detail from my childhood. Here’s a short story in answer. 

One day when I was about three years old, my Dad and I drove to the Croskey’s farm and pulled into their driveway off Highway 35, just north of Ice Box Canyon. I don’t recall exactly why we went there, perhaps we bought eggs from them. “I won’t be long, Honey, so you can wait in the car,” he said as he got out of the old Studebaker. 

Soon I felt the car starting to roll backwards, toward the road. It was scary, but I knew what to do. I crawled under the steering wheel and pressed as hard as I could on the pedal my Dad always used to stop the car, until he returned.

“What the hell?” he asked when he saw me down on the floor.

“I’m holding the pedal so the car won’t roll onto the road,” I answered. 

When he saw that he had left the car in neutral, he grabbed the emergency brake. “It’s OK, now, Honey, you can climb back up on the seat.” He slid into the car and brought me close for a big hug. “You’re so smart and so brave!” he said.

—Catherine Haug, Bigfork