Learning to Drive

In my youth, one of the biggest milestones a boy had, was to get a driver's license.  But before one could get a license, you had to learn to drive.  Fortunately for most kids raised on a farm or ranch, this was not only an opportunity, but an obligation.

In the fall of the year, before the green grass grew enough to provide adequate nourishment for the cows, the cattle all over the ranch had to be fed hay.  The first job every morning was to feed hay, whether cattle needed to be gathered or moved, or there was fence to build.

We owned flatbed pickups which were backed up to the hay stack, and carefully stacked with bales of hay, often three or four bales high. The hay was tied down with rope because the roads through the hills were definitely not freeways. The driver, and hopefully a helper, then headed into the hills to disperse the hay in various fields.  Some days, wives were enlisted to help, but it was the youngsters that had an obligation to help out.

When I was no more than five, my father enlisted me to be his "driver." He did all the loading and tied down the hay, then we hurried to an open area in the hills where he planned to feed some cows.  Dad untied the first section, and got ready to feed.

The older trucks had a pull-throttle which would the set the engine speed appropriately.  He'd tell me to get ready, shift the transmission into Compound Low, called Granny Gear by many, and let out the clutch.  As soon as the truck started rolling, he jumped out and told me get behind the wheel.  I was so small, I had to kneel on the seat so I could see over the wheel.

I was told to drive the truck around the flat, keep it out of the rocks, and don't let it go into a ditch.  If I got scared, or was getting too close to some obstacle, all I had to do was shut it off.

As soon as I was behind the wheel, Dad jumped on the back, fed hay and looked over his cows until he had sufficient hay on the ground to feed the cows in that field.  Then he'd yell, "Okay, shut it off."  He then retied the hay, jumped in and drove us to another flat, where we fed more hay to another field of cows with me driving the truck.

I learned very quickly to steer around the rocks, stay away from gullies and draws, and make a big circle in the flat.  By the time I could reach the pedals, around the age of 8 or 10 as I recall, I had several years of steering experience.  By the time I was 12, I was driving a pickup all over the hills.

When it came time to go to the DMV to get a license, driving, shifting a manual shift, and turning and backing was old hat.  Though rocks and trees won't drive in front of you as other drivers will, I'd learned to avoid problems.

After a Driver's Education class covering the rules of the road and the law, and I was ready to get my license.  On my 16th birthday, I went to the DMV, took the written test, and drove for the examiner.  That evening, when I blew out the candles on my cake, I had a brand new drivers license in my pocket.

Home in the Foothills

My home is in the middle, a guest house to the left, and the barn to the right.
The top of Black Mountain, shrouded in clouds, is approximately 5,000 ft

I live on a point of a ridge at 1,000 foot altitude in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. My front door faces east, and is less than 100 yards from a steep hillside.  From there to the eastern slope in Nevada, stand the rugged mountains serving as my back yard.

My parents bought this property in 1929, and still lived on this hilltop when I was born in 1944.  I was raised on a working cow/calf cattle ranch, riding horses, working cattle, feeding hay, and building and preparing fences.  When my parents finally built a new home off the ranch, I moved my wife and three sons to the home place.

My children attended the same elementary school I attended, and graduated from the same high school where I met and courted their mother.  Today, when the grandkids come to visit at Grampy and Grammy's, they run and climb on the same rocks my father bought almost 90 years ago.

I continue to raise a few cows, including the bull Mr Boo, my hereford/angus herd sire.  Keep reading my blog, and you will learn about some of them.