My 1950 Ford Bobsled

I’m sure my brother Bob can clarify the details on the accident because I wasn’t there. I just remember the talk about Reg topping the hill just past Bailey Memorial Baptist Church and hitting a car that had stopped on the road to find a hubcap. Fred Parsons had been following too fast, I heard, and nearly caused it to be a three car pile up, but somehow managed to control his 1958 Buick and missed Bob’s 1950 Ford and the other car involved. Fred said it was a miracle.

Reg and Tom got a new front end for Bob's car from a junk yard and put it back together. The new front was green, however, and didn’t match the blue car.  Bob couldn’t afford to get it painted right away, but Ross Stump and Tom both tell me that Dave Thomas, an artistic friend, decided that a tiger’s head would make a great addition to the front of the new hood until it could be painted. I now may think it was tacky, but when you are about 10 years old, it had to be about the coolest thing in the world.

The old hood was discarded but stayed around to be discovered several years later by me. It became a great snow toy. I suppose you need to know what this Ford hood looked like to fully appreciate how this became my 1950 Ford Bobsled.

Dad’s farm in Bluefield, West Virginia, was fifty acres of trees and rocks, except for the big hayfield, the large garden, the sink hole beside the house, and a small apple orchard in front of the sinkhole between the house and the barn. That orchard and the sinkhole became my bobsled course.

I tied a rope on the front of the hood to pull my sled and also to use as something to hold while riding, much like the bridle of a horse. It wasn’t much control, but by leaning left or right, I could manage some direction. I didn’t have trouble negotiating the few apple trees in my path, but there were lots of trees and undergrowth on the side of the sinkhole. The sinkhole wasn’t bottomless, but was apparently formed centuries before when limestone caves collapsed. So it was a smooth ride through the orchard, followed by an exciting dropoff at the end.

I was no fool, so I knew I needed protection. I think it was my brother Tom who had gotten a good football helmet somewhere that he had painted gold. And of course, it was winter, so I had a large winter jacket that was lined with a soft quilted type of material. Boots and gloves completed the bobsled outfit.

I am amazed now to think about my recklessness and realize that I hit some trees really hard (the hood was already bent, however), but I never got hurt, except for some scratches from the undergrowth. But it was really fun and exciting.

Just now, as I am writing 50 years later, I had to chuckle, because I had never seen the obvious pun --- It was Bob’s hood, that became my 1950 Ford “Bob”sled.