Contrary to the headline, this column won’t be referencing the Star Trek TV show. It doesn’t even involve an actual trek. The little journeys I’m recalling were neither long nor arduous, which according to my dictionary, any real trek entails? But they took their toll just the same. I just have a thing for words and phrases that rhyme, and “trek” fits so nicely in the headline.
The column’s about little journeys many of us took (too often) long ago (not that long) to a place not far away (right here) when we were young.
Those were dangerous times to be alive, in many ways. Especially if you were in your teens or twenties, there was a lot of excess dying goin’ on. In addition to all the usual, banal reasons, there were extenuating circumstances that multiplied the dyin’, particularly among young folks.
For one thing, there was a long war going on (sound familiar?). That little war, sometimes (tritely) referred to as a police action, went on nonstop for most of a decade and a half! Lots and lots of young men (and some women) died fighting (or protesting) that war. More than ten times as many as those killed (so far) in the two wars we’ve goin’ on today!
One major difference between that war and todays wars? The people called upon to fight (and die) in it.
Back then we had a little government program called, “The Draft”. There were no “All Volunteer” military services back then. In fact, towards the end of that war (and supply of young men) people were even bein’ drafted into the Marines!
For you younger folks, what that “draft” meant was that soon as you turned eighteen, you had to register with the government selective service board (commonly called the “draft board”). Then, at some point in the near future you too could be “selected” by your local draft board. Meanin’ you’d join the military service! Thereby havin’ your own (required) patriotic opportunity to go help fight the war (like it or not)!
Kinda makes todays “sharing the war effort” propaganda pale in comparison, don’tcha think?
Being lucky enough (rich enough) to get into college, could buy you a reprieve from being drafted, long as you kept your grades up.
Of course, there was always the “poor boy” way out of that draft? You could grab a girl, get married and have a baby! That would (usually) buy your way out of serving in the military. Depriving you of your opportunty to patriotically serve (maybe die for) your country. But it became clear (by sky rocketing divorce rates) you’d often signed up for more “duty” than you bargained for!
But this column isn’t about wars. That old one or the ones we’re fighting today.
Remember earlier I mentioned those “dangerous times”? This column’s about drinkin’, drivin’, and making, “The Trek”.
Drinking and driving was frowned on back then. But it rarely got you locked up. In fact, pretty often if you got pulled over, you might be told to, “... be careful, drive straight home, and no speeding on the way...!” (but we did).
The “Trek”, became a somber journey we’d make to the local junkyard (automobile recycling facility, for you young or politically correct readers). Many young people (ok, mostly guys) made this journey on an irregular (but all too often) basis. Why? Well, not just to buy car parts. Though most of us had limited budgets, worked on our own cars, so we did that too.
No...! The “Trek” was undertaken after the (all too often fatal) automobile accidents that young drivers got into back then!
We’d hear about a “big wreck” that had occurred! Most often happening late at night, on some back road. Young folks returning from “across the river” over in New York state, where the drinking age was eighteen. “Dead Man’s Curve”, a seemingly innocuous bend in the road along Rte. 6 near White Mills was the site of many accidents too.
Almost invariably the cars involved ended up being towed to Kenny Burdick’s junkyard down on Old Willow Avenue.
We’d all make the “Trek” down there. We’d gawk at the wreckage of the automobiles of our friends. Looking closely, you could sometimes see the blood of a (former) friend.
It was a kinda “rite of passage” for us to see the evidence of death, left over in the twisted wreckage. Sounds unseemly? Morbid perhaps? I just remember it slowed my drivin’ and drinkin’ down (some).
I Don’t Know About You..., I’d like “The Trek” revived. Might just save a few folks dyin’..., too soon.
Cal Teeple, may be found At: www.wayneindependent.com/cal Or at: calteeple@gmail.com Or three stools down. Founder of the Observational Cogitation Consortium, he may be ignored, accosted or contacted in all three places.
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Contrary to the headline, this column won’t be referencing the Star Trek TV show. It doesn’t even involve an actual trek. The little journeys I’m recalling were neither long nor arduous, which according to my dictionary, any real trek entails? But they took their toll just the same. I just have a thing for words and phrases that rhyme, and “trek” fits so nicely in the headline.
The column’s about little journeys many of us took (too often) long ago (not that long) to a place not far away (right here) when we were young.
Those were dangerous times to be alive, in many ways. Especially if you were in your teens or twenties, there was a lot of excess dying goin’ on. In addition to all the usual, banal reasons, there were extenuating circumstances that multiplied the dyin’, particularly among young folks.
For one thing, there was a long war going on (sound familiar?). That little war, sometimes (tritely) referred to as a police action, went on nonstop for most of a decade and a half! Lots and lots of young men (and some women) died fighting (or protesting) that war. More than ten times as many as those killed (so far) in the two wars we’ve goin’ on today!
One major difference between that war and todays wars? The people called upon to fight (and die) in it.
Back then we had a little government program called, “The Draft”. There were no “All Volunteer” military services back then. In fact, towards the end of that war (and supply of young men) people were even bein’ drafted into the Marines!
For you younger folks, what that “draft” meant was that soon as you turned eighteen, you had to register with the government selective service board (commonly called the “draft board”). Then, at some point in the near future you too could be “selected” by your local draft board. Meanin’ you’d join the military service! Thereby havin’ your own (required) patriotic opportunity to go help fight the war (like it or not)!
Kinda makes todays “sharing the war effort” propaganda pale in comparison, don’tcha think?
Being lucky enough (rich enough) to get into college, could buy you a reprieve from being drafted, long as you kept your grades up.
Of course, there was always the “poor boy” way out of that draft? You could grab a girl, get married and have a baby! That would (usually) buy your way out of serving in the military. Depriving you of your opportunty to patriotically serve (maybe die for) your country. But it became clear (by sky rocketing divorce rates) you’d often signed up for more “duty” than you bargained for!
But this column isn’t about wars. That old one or the ones we’re fighting today.
Remember earlier I mentioned those “dangerous times”? This column’s about drinkin’, drivin’, and making, “The Trek”.
Drinking and driving was frowned on back then. But it rarely got you locked up. In fact, pretty often if you got pulled over, you might be told to, “... be careful, drive straight home, and no speeding on the way...!” (but we did).
The “Trek”, became a somber journey we’d make to the local junkyard (automobile recycling facility, for you young or politically correct readers). Many young people (ok, mostly guys) made this journey on an irregular (but all too often) basis. Why? Well, not just to buy car parts. Though most of us had limited budgets, worked on our own cars, so we did that too.
No...! The “Trek” was undertaken after the (all too often fatal) automobile accidents that young drivers got into back then!
We’d hear about a “big wreck” that had occurred! Most often happening late at night, on some back road. Young folks returning from “across the river” over in New York state, where the drinking age was eighteen. “Dead Man’s Curve”, a seemingly innocuous bend in the road along Rte. 6 near White Mills was the site of many accidents too.
Almost invariably the cars involved ended up being towed to Kenny Burdick’s junkyard down on Old Willow Avenue.
We’d all make the “Trek” down there. We’d gawk at the wreckage of the automobiles of our friends. Looking closely, you could sometimes see the blood of a (former) friend.
It was a kinda “rite of passage” for us to see the evidence of death, left over in the twisted wreckage. Sounds unseemly? Morbid perhaps? I just remember it slowed my drivin’ and drinkin’ down (some).
I Don’t Know About You..., I’d like “The Trek” revived. Might just save a few folks dyin’..., too soon.
Cal Teeple, may be found At: www.wayneindependent.com/cal Or at: calteeple@gmail.com Or three stools down. Founder of the Observational Cogitation Consortium, he may be ignored, accosted or contacted in all three places.
