The 36 by 40 foot chicken house stood about 200 feet down the hill and about one third of the way to the barn in relation to the dwelling house. Dad always parked the 38’ Ford log truck in shade of the large locust tree just a few yards from the house.
It was a nice fall weekend sunny day. A great day to play outside for two boys filled with imagination. Jim, my oldest nephew and I came to where the truck was sitting. We decided to pretend that we were driving the truck. Our make believe cargo could have been logs for the sawmill or lumber and crossties from the mill to a distant city. Once inside the truck I took my place at the wheel, and Jim, by my side would take the controls as our long day wore on. It was hard work, clutching, shifting gears and handling the curvy mountain roads. Though toiling as we pretended to be doing, we were having a load of fun. We made the sounds of the engine as we climbed the hills. Sometimes it roared high or was reduced to a growl until the change to a lower gear was necessary. Down the hills and on the level we made the sound of an engine pulling its load with ease. Finally our make believe day was done and two tired truckers still full of boyish energy went off to another adventure.
But, there was just one problem as we closed the doors of the old Ford. We, in order to begin our journey released the hand brake and forgot to re-set it. Also the gearshift lever was left in neutral and as we pretended to maneuver the curves, the front wheels of the truck were being turned down the slight slope where it was parked. Because it was much easier for the front wheels to turn toward the slope, they were eventually turned all the way in that direction. When we got out of the truck it was a disaster waiting to happen.
Jim and I were still playing in the yard just a few feet from the truck. Wayne was walking from the barn to the house and he too was only feet from the truck. He had no idea of the condition that we had left the truck. The sound of the creaking, rolling vehicle caught his attention. Now, a few feet on its way down the hill to the chicken house or if not, the destination would be the creek below, Wayne sprang into action. He ran to the driver’s side, jumped on the running board and reached for the steering wheel. He could not open the door and get inside the moving vehicle but must some way steer it clear of the chicken house. Holding on as the truck moved rapidly across the rough ground, he managed to save the day.
After Wayne had driven the truck back to its parking place we retraced its path down the hill and discovered that the wheels were only three feet from plunging into the chicken house. This would have been the worse case scenario. Wayne would have been sandwiched between the truck and the chicken house and without a doubt would have been killed. I’ve been thinking. Was he trying to save the truck or the chicken house? Who knows? There is one thing that I do know however he saved Jim and me. He saved us from the worse chastisement we would ever receive but even greater, he saved us from a lifetime of remorse if he had not turned the wheels just enough to avoid the crash.
We were just kids but our irresponsible actions could have caused a lot of damage and could have cost a life. Whether young or old, we all should consider what we do and how it will affect the lives of others. I am thankful for what my brother Wayne did. He had a brave streak that came through that day that few knew ever knew existed. God in his wisdom and providence saved him for another day for which he would serve his country under the stars and stripes and later become a loving husband and father.
