FRUGALITY AND TRANSPORTATION PROBLEMS

Gas stations in the mid-1930’s used the 10-gallon elevated (about six feet) glass cylinder “pumps” to hold and dispense gas between the underground storage tank and the car’s gas tank. The station manager would sometimes let us kids pump the cylinder full between customers if no cars were waiting. At the 10-gallon mark the overflow tube would return any extra gas to the underground tank. The cylinder was marked off in quarter and half gallon increments, numbered in reverse top to bottom so you could see how much gas you had drained from the glass cylinder to your gas tank. Then you could multiply times the price per gallon or look at a pre-calculated chart to see how much you owed.

Well, Dad would always wait to pull in to the station until the gas in the cylinder was drained by the previous customer. If the gas had been sitting in the cylinder for long in the sun at 100 degrees waiting for a customer, it had expanded (the overflow kept the heated quantity constant at 10 gallons). But gas just pumped into the cylinder at the 74 degrees of the underground tank, being denser, was a bargain by about 10 %, according to Dad. Being a science teacher, he knew this and explained it to us; and he always took advantage of it during the depression.

Prior to this at about four years old, with little brother Gene’s help, I had put “gas” into Dad’s car parked in the driveway. Pretend “gas” was actually sand! Reportedly, no matter that Dad took the tank and lines apart to clean out the sand, the car always had problems until he traded it in to eliminate the continuing exasperation.

Another car incident came from my little brother and I (about age five or six) sitting on the curb in front of our house on north Main in Beloit. For entertainment we were rolling the mud we found there into little balls, and were throwing them at cars that went by, probably ineffectively at our age. Well, one man stopped abruptly, chased and caught us. About the same time Mom came out to see what the commotion was about. My recollection isn’t clear whether the mud ball hit his car, went through his window and hit him, or just our throwing motions were what caused him to stop. Anyhow, that form of entertainment was not acceptable, and it was made exceedingly clear. (The folks were too young then for gray hair, but Dad was balding – caused by their kids?)

Later, at high school age, I admit that my friends led me astray and I couldn’t resist throwing snowballs at cars or buses occasionally, then scattering in all directions if the car slowed or stopped. Also, when the streets were slick some of us would grab the bus’s rear bumper when it stopped to pick up passengers and prepare to slide on our feet. We dropped off before it got going too fast, and hitting a spot of dry road wasn’t good. This seemed to be a highly dangerous activity, so I mostly watched after a few tries. My first bicycle was a brown girl’s bike purchased from the superintendent of schools, Mr. Campbell, for $.50. I do not recall any embarrassment from it being a girl’s bike or being used. I was just happy to get it.

My first car was purchased by me my senior year at Kansas State in 1953. It was a 1941 Studebaker coupe, light green. No rear seat, but the trunk opened into the car, so it was good for double dating if one couple lay down partly in the trunk, partly in the car.