Ghost cars....and the day Jesus drove the van

That photo titled Ghost Cars reminds me of my childhood. My dad had cars like that. We'd live in a house for a month or so and when the evil landlord demanded his rent, we'd load up the car in the middle of the night and go find Aunt Bitch Face. Aunt Bitch Face and her husband were in California or New Mexico or Oregon or wherever it was that month, picking fruit and making lots of money. Tons of money! We had to go join them and make our fortune. My dad had no intention of picking anything, but, he usually had a warrant out for his arrest so, he made no objection. Dressed in his dapper hat and white shirt and dress pants he climbed behind the wheel, while my mother, in her pretty Jackie Kennedy clothes, sat in the passenger seat. Of all the sisters, my mother was the pretty one. Also the dumb one, but, no one talked about that. I think she's mildly retarded, but, that word isn't used in our family. Anyway, my dad was a genius psychotic maniac, so they were well matched. I was used to living on the road, in cars. We did that a lot.
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And off we'd go. Those old cars had a really deep broad back window, like a shelf. You could jam an old quilt and a pillow in there and ride inside the back window. No seat belts, like today. I loved that. It was almost like riding on top of the car. I remember laying there, speeding along, wondering where we'd end up this time. And watching mountains or deserts flash by, depending on the landscape. We never had a dime to our names, so we slept in the cars too. Or pulled them into off roads and camped. When we caught up with Bitch Face, the sisters would often ride in the same car so they could gossip and us kids would be shoved in another car and follow, with some uncle or other driving. At night there would be circles of cars parked on dusty back roads or some farmers field like a band of gypsies, campfires would be lit and dinner started. Dinner was traveling food, which consisted of hot dogs and chips and bologna sandwiches..also packed in paper bags for the road. If you got hungry, you just reached in the sack and got yourself some bologna and bread. And water in old milk jugs taken from any park spout or gas station. That's good livin' in case you don't know. The sisters never called hot dogs weenies. They always called them "winnies'' and Bitch Face came up with that. She said the word weenie was vulgar. She was high class, you know.
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I got to see the world biggest ball of twine for free. Beat that. Oh, they charged an admission, but, while the rest of the clan was bartering for gas, the owner told me he let little girls in for free, IF they showed him their panties. I said, sure, but, I want to see the ball of twine first. I was smart like that. He showed it to me and it was somethin'. I looked and looked..for free..then I took off running. I also stole a great big Hershey bar from his stand on the way out. Ha, the joke was on him. I didn't even own any panties. Travel is so adventurous, don't you think? And educational.
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We thought we'd hit the big time when we'd find a pickers paradise that had old cabins included and a community shower stall where we could take a much needed bath. I remember living in one made of plywood and tin and it had a wood stove we could make pancakes on. It had it's own outhouse. I asked if we could live there forever, it was so nice. But, they said no, we have to hit the road, but, the next place will be a fine mansion. You watch.
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Yep, I watched. And I lived in cars. When my cousin RosaLee married Carl, he was a preacher. A pimple faced, greasy red haired preacher. Ugliest damn man I ever saw. Still is. He had an old purple van and they'd travel around preaching the gospel and mooching off Bitch Face. One day Carl told us we were all sinners and had to let Jesus drive. He said the road to salvation was the only path and that only Jesus knew the way. I thought we needed a map, but, I was just dumb. Just a dumb kid. Carl set out to prove the error of my thinking by letting Jesus drive his purple van. RosaLee got scared and wouldn't ride with him and he said "Oh, yee of little faith. I put myself in the hands of God and Jesus shall lead me home." Then he blindfolded himself and started the van. He yelled "PRAISE JESUS!" He lead footed the accelerator and that van shot out to the highway like Jehovah's rocket, like a speeding comet..or as Uncle Albert said "Like a chicken shooting shit out it's ass after eating gunpowder." Indeed.
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To Jesus's credit, he did alright on the straight away, it was the curve that did him in. The purple van was totaled beyond recognition and Carl broke his arm and collar bone. I thought Carl was nuts, still do, but, he explained it this way.."If the lord didn't love me, I'd be dead right now. He was with me and I'm living proof." Yeah, but, is he buying you a new van? No? Then I guess you have to ride with the rest of us sinners now. And we did manage to skip town before anyone got a hospital bill. We took the plates off the purple van and left it smoldering in a ditch and we never looked back. Praise the lord!
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I heard there's Strawberries in Napa Valley as big as a hog's nuts and I shore am hungry! Let's go!