I remember my father’s gold, International Harvester Scout. It was an important part of growing up in the small town of Ashton, at The Rankin Motel. We went as a family to St. Anthony (14 miles south of Ashton) to look at a pretty, shiny, gold IH Scout. Dad needed something to haul wood in that could also take garbage to the dump. From the seriousness of the discussion mom and dad were having, it was a serious investment.
Kim, Robert and I (us kids) circled the dealership’s gravel driveway playing tag with each other and the huge grasshoppers were all over that fall. They were easy to catch and our hands were covered in the tobacco spit they ‘urped’ up. The decision was made to purchase the beautiful Scout. Chores could now get done fashionably. Adventures took us many places. After cleaning the motel rooms and cabins, we packed our bologna sandwiches and headed to the river (Jim’s boat dock) with Gomer, our black lab.
I don’t think we all could fit into the Scout, so our Ford Galaxy (Gold also) was also driven to the boat dock area. Gomer was an amazing dog who loved to find dead fish and stinky stuff. Of course, he always found it before we could stop him from rolling in it.
We got him into the river to wash as much of it off as possible. But a very wet, stinky dog had to be transported home. I remember sitting in the back seat of that Scout, trying not to throw up the whole trip home. Little brother got to sit in the front passenger seat next to dad.
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