The Turtle "Shell" Story

This week I connected with long lost cousins, aunts, and an uncle on my dad side of the family, originating from North Carolina. When we were kids, every summer just as soon as school was out we'd jump in the car and drive non-stop to Hickory, North Carolina. We initially traveled Route 66, later our travels followed Interstate 40. In those days there was no air conditioning in cars and driving across the California desert wasn't much fun. You carried canvas water bags on your front bumper to reduce the risks of your car overheating. If you were lucky, you had a water cooler hanging out the window or straddling the hump between the front seats. The first trip I remember was in a 1936 Buick coupe. My dad has built a bench that sat between the back seat and the front seats making the rear seat like a bed so we (Ronnie and Johnny) could sleep on the way. I remember one trip very vividly that we took in the summer of 1959. As usual the car was loaded the night before, and the moment school was out we jumped in a 1959 white Buick LeSabre and hit the road. Dad and mom took turns driving and popping no-doze as we only stopped for gas ($.22-.30/gal) and sometimes to pee. We were making good time and while driving through Arkansas dad suddenly slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car. There was a large turtle crossing the road and dad picked it up and put it in the trunk of the car. Mom asked…what are you going to do with that? Dad replied…we’ll give it to Grandma and she’ll fix it for supper; Mom didn’t realize at the time but dad had put the muddy turtle on her new coat. We arrived in Hickory late at night and the turtle spent the evening in the trunk of the car comfortable on moms coat, not knowing what was in store for him. The next day dad and grandpa retrieved the turtle and cleaned it…making it ready for grandma to cook. Most of us had a taste that day at supper and several said hmmm tastes like chicken, no frog, and then grandpa said I believe I like this almost as much as I like opossum. Dad saved the turtle shell and I still have it on display at our cabin. I was reminded of the story when chatting with my cousin Sara; thanks Sara for the stories and jogging my memory. Our annual visits to Hickory produced some special memories that I'll cherish forever.