Howard was my mother’s little brother. At the time of this adventure, the family lived right outside of Humble, Texas. in a settlement called Moonshine Hill When imagining Moonshine Hill, ignore any thought of a raised area visible from a distance because of its altitude. Hill, in this part of Texas is any designated area more than 10 feet higher than the surrounding countryside. This area was known by all residents to be at least 14 feet higher than Houston; in fact, our family evacuated to nearby Humble, which was was not nearly so high, during hurricanes. There is no information regarding the Moonshine part of Mother’s birthplace. Mother said, ”That’s what somebody named it and so that’s what it was called.” Mother’s suffered from a prodigious lack of interest in background details.
During the first half of the 1920’s Moonshine Hill was the center of a regional oil boom so most of the folks living in that area were directly involved with either drilling for oil, called wildcatters or roughnecks, or they were involved with the laying and maintenance of the large pipelines that carried the crude oil off to the refineries. Mother’s daddy laid pipeline and their little four room house sat on a good sized island of hard packed Texas dirt amidst a forest of wooden rigs interspersed with bucking and heaving pipes known as jacklines.
Her dad and his brother were partners in a teamster business. They hauled and laid the pipe that moved the crude oil from Moonshine Hill down the way to Southeast Houston where the early cracking plants or refineries were located. The drilling boom that gave birth to the settlement of Moonshine Hill would not last out the decade while the early refineries would continue to thrive and eventually become Pasadena, the largest refining center in the South. Originally her daddy used a team of matching white horses to haul the pipe but, with the passing of time and an increase in his fortune, he moved up to large trucks. His first purchase to replace his team of horses was a heavy duty International Harvester truck.
This is the true story of a new International Harvester truck and Mother’s first driving experience. My uncle, He was around five years old at the time this took place.
Howard, tells the story this way.
My wild ride took place on the same day that my father took possession of a brand new. white International Harvester truck. It was big and it was sitting all alone in the middle of what we called our front yard; the keys were in it and the engine was running. I was too young to know what made good sense so when my sister, Doris, older and wiser by 5 years said to get in the truck, I got in the truck. I can’t remember, now, how she was able to get it moving, but we did start moving. It had to have been at an idling speed because Doris was definitely not able to reach any pedals. I thank goodness for that or I’m not sure I would be telling this story today.
Off we went across the yard; Doris was the first one of us to panic. I took a little longer, seeing as how I was much younger. A shout went up from the men standing around outside and a chase was on. My dad’s foreman came running out onto the porch just as we went by. He was young and fast and able to run us down. One helpful feature in the course of our ultimate survival was the running board This long, foot wide platform that ran down each side of the cab made it possible for him to leap up, grab hold by sticking his arm through the window, open the truck door, shove Doris aside, and take control.
He stopped the truck and saved my life; i’m thankful to this day that he made that jump.
I know I wasn’t punished. I was far too young. In all honesty, I don’t even think Doris was punished, but, then, I don’t think she was ever punished. Spoiled is a good word to describe the life of my sister; the only girl in a family with four boys. I will say this about that day’s adventure: I never rode with Doris again. At least not if she was the one behind the wheel.