Sam Houston vs Temple

Sam Houston vs Temple 1960

I don’t remember why, but the three of us decided that we wanted to go to the out-of-town football game in Temple Texas. Clifford Rains, Richard Smallwood, and I decided to go to this particular game. During the years since I have made the trip to or through Temple many times even managing a contract there for one of the Drayton Mclane companies during the 1990s. However, in 1960 I had never driven to Temple on my own. I had driven to Waco on my own a couple of times but that was going on highway 6. Smallwood’s family only had one car and the trip was for a Friday night game. Clifford had an older Plymouth, so I talked my Dad into letting me drive there for the game with my friends. I had my Dodge all gassed up and had made my plans for when to pick up Richard and Clifford. Then on Thursday night, my Dad said I should take his car for the trip because it was newer and would take less gas. He had a 1960 Rambler American (6 cylinders) and I had driven several times before, but no I would rather take my Dodge. The decision had already been made but it took a few minutes for me to understand that. His way or no trip, Father knows best.

In 1960, all of the roads to Temple were 2-lane roads, and much of it was hilly. When we got on the road we thought we had plenty of time to make it to the game in time. Before we got to Caldwell, I noticed that the voltage gauge was showing full charge and I knew it should not be doing that. That car had no power equipment and only an AM radio and the car was not old enough to have a weak battery. Cars then had generators and a voltage regulator before cars had alternators like today. I had no tools in that car, my tools were in the Dodge miles away. I saw a car repair shop that was still open in Caldwell so I stopped to see if I could get help. The mechanic determined what I had suspected that it was a stuck voltage regular; however, he said there would be none available in town and he could not get one until the next week. The car was under warranty, but no Rambler Dealer anywhere in the area. Not wanting to turn back and go home as I should have done, the mechanic bypassed the generator so it would not overcharge the battery and might have exploded on the road.

It was still barely daylight when we got to the game, but we had missed the first half, and if I remember correctly, Temple was winning. We got something to eat at the game and I got concerned about getting home driving off the battery with the headlights on. We decided to leave before the game ended to head home. I drove as far as I could with the lights off to stretch the miles off the battery, but we would have to stop where we found gas stations open in the small towns. Back then, most stations had batteries and battery chargers. If the battery was really low, it would take an hour or more to get it to full charge and we did not know which towns would have a station that was still open.

I think it was about 5:00 am when I got home after taking them home first. I was dead tired, but I was afraid of the conversation I was to have with my Dad in just a short time. I considered telling him that it would not have happened if I had driven the Dodge, but I knew that would not end well. I knew he would be up by at least 7:00 so I could not go to sleep. When I heard him up, I went to the kitchen where I knew I would find him drinking coffee. It was almost like he could tell I had news he did not want to hear. I just blurted out that the car had problems on the trip and it needed to be taken to the dealer to be fixed. Did I tell you that my Dad had a temper that would show up when you did not want to see it?

I provided more details about the problem and what needed to be replaced and that I hope the battery would be OK with another charging. The American Motors Dealership was open on Saturdays back then and the service shop also. By the time we got to the dealership, Dad had told me that he had just taken the car in for a problem with the voltage regulator the week before so his anger had shifted to them when we got there. I don’t think I ever saw Dad back down to anyone when he knew he was right. They replaced the part, checked and charged the battery and the ride back home was calmer.

The moral of this story is that teenagers do dumb things and still live to tell stories. We were lucky to have got home safe, but tired. I don’t know if either Clifford or Richard remembers this trip, but it is a “Good Ole Days” memory for me.