It was 1960. Now, just a little back ground before my story begins...We were living in Wis. Rapids, out by the Two Mile School. Bob was a payroll auditor and Safety Engineer for the Western Casualty and Surety Co. He traveled and was out on the road from early Monday morning 'til Thursday evening. It was the 'dead of winter' and at least two feet of snow on the ground. The temps had been down to 30 below many a night...and now my tale of woe begins.

It was an early Monday morning and Bob was rushing around so he could leave and be on the road before 7 a.m. He was running late and really in a hurry. I looked out the window and saw our ole 1950 Ford pickup truck sitting out in the driveway. It was so cold I hadn't been able to get it started all weekend, and when Bob was gone it was my only mode of transportation. I really needed to get groceries while he was gone. So...I asked him if he would mind hooking a chain on the bumper and pulling me around the block to get it started. He said "yes, but we better make it snappy." I was in my housecoat and slippers, and the temp said 40 below. But I didn't have time to change so I grabbed my coat, boots and truck keys and headed outside.

Bob had already packed his suitcase and would leave as soon as he got the truck started. He proceeded to hook a big chain on both the car and truck, and now for my instructions. When we hit a speed of 10-15 miles an hour, I was to let out on the clutch slowly, and give it some gas and it should take right off. We started down the street, round one corner and then another, but it suddenly dawned on me, that the speedometer on the truck wasn't working. Now, I had a problem, I didn't want to start it too soon. We were on our way around the block for the second time, when Bob slowly pulled over to the side of the street, got out of the car walked back to the truck, a wee bit exasperated. He said "what in thunder are you waitin' for (that's not the word he used) a freight train?" So I began to tell him about the speedometer not working, he cut me short and said in no uncertain terms, "my speedometer works, when we get up to 10-15 miles an hour, I will give you a signal, and you start that baby" I was almost in tears, because I knew he needed to be on his way.

Again we started down the road. I was thinking to myself, what kind of signal would it be, would he tap his brakes, wave his hanky, by now I was really getting excited, all of a sudden he stuck his hand out of his window and waved! I thought that was strange, but gaily waved back. Several more times he waved. By now we had really picked up speed and fairly sailed around the corners. After three times around, and still no signal, I could see that we were going so fast, that if I didn't hit my brakes, I was going to ram into the back of our new car, so I took the bull by the horns and slammed on the brakes, and it immediately swung me over into a huge snow bank at the side of the street. Bob, again, slowly got out of the car, walked back to the truck, and said to me, "why in (bleep) didn't you start the car when I gave you the signal?" "Signal? I thought you were waving to me." If looks could kill, I would have been dead in my tracks. He said "a two year old kid could have started that truck blind-folded, if I were giving drivers tests, you would never pass. You will have to do without the truck 'til I get home on Thursday." He gave me a peck on the cheek, and sped off down the street. I was in tears, here I was standing out in the street in my housecoat and slippers and two blocks from home. I got into the truck and put on my coat and boots and started trudging down the street.

I noticed neighbors standing at their windows peeking out from behind their curtains, probably thinking, what are those crazy Millers up to now.

Finally arriving home, blubbering all the way, I opened the door, and daughter Susie was up and getting ready for school. She looked at me and said "mom, what were you doing outside in your housecoat? You look frozen, and what is our truck doing down the street in a snow bank?" I said, "honey, it's a loooong story and you don't want to know, just don't ask me to drive you anywhere this week 'cause that truck ain't movin."