I remember an old cart we had on the farm back in the early days of the Depression. Once bright and shiny, then ravaged by time and hard use, the tired old cart had finally broken down. Its rusted wheels, worn and wobbly, had finally separated from the axles.

One day, our Pa said, "I want you boys to clean things up around here. Make a pile of all the trash so's we can haul it off to the dump."

Last to get tossed onto the wagon was the cart, its rusty handle swaying back and forth in a final salute as Pa slapped the reins on the rump of old Patches and off we rode to the dump. The cart, first to come off the wagon caught our Pa's eye. He studied it for a moment.

"A coat of paint and a set of wheels would make this cart do for a long time," he said. "Sam, you and Al look around the dump for something with wheels on it."

Pa and I had finished unloading when Sam and Al returned with their arms full and hopeful smiles on their faces. Sam was lugging a beat up baby carriage and Al, a tricycle and an old scooter, each with one wheel attached.

Well, the old cart carried on its job of transporting firewood, groceries, and milk cans for some time to come.

Turning from carts to automobiles, our pa came up with an idea that all but doubled the gas mileage on his Model A sedan. He reasoned that a tractor ran fine on kerosene, so why not a car? Kerosene, being much cheaper than gas, he poured a gallon into his near-empty gas tank. Of course, the car refused to start. But Pa didn't quit there. He drained the tank, poured in a small amount of straight gas, and after starting the car, added a similar amount of kerosene. The motor continued to run, coughing and smoking some but nevertheless, efficient enough to propel the car to his barber shop, some distance to the city. Of course, he had to repeat the process on his return trip but it all helped keep his head above water in those trying times.

I can't recall our pa ever buying motor oil during the Depression. Used, but free, it was anywhere a gas station happened to be. Most stations had a big drum of used oil out back and it was free to anyone who purchased gas or had their car repaired. Jim King, our local station owner, used to say, "Strain the used oil through a sieve and it’s just as good as new."

Jim King also knew a trick or two about worn tires. For the paltry sum of two dollars, he would re-groove a set of smooth tires, thereby extending the life of the tires. Our pa, thrifty man that he was, quickly took advantage of this service. The trick to re-grooving was accomplished with a tool that somewhat resembled a soldering iron which, when heated, Jim would skillfully duplicate the original tread design on the surface of the worn, smooth tire.

Remember the good old pot-bellied stove? We had one in the center of our parlor. It would burn most anything one would put into it: wood, coal, corncobs, pine cones or tightly-rolled newspaper but preferably wood and coal.

Come fall, our pa would buy a ton of pea coal which would have to do for the entire winter. This was accomplished by burning wood during the cold winter days, and by banking the fire at night with the coal. Used sparingly, the banked fire seldom lasted the night and long before morning on those cold winter nights, every available blanket was put to use. But come morning, our pa always had a crackling wood fire radiating warmth throughout the house. Of course, the ashes were never wasted for they came in mighty handy when the roads were coated with ice. Pa always carried a sack full in his car and whenever he needed them, he'd spray the icy road beneath his rear tires and the gritty ashes always got him going again.

Back in those days, whenever we kids were fortunate enough to acquire a dime for candy, we always bought the hard variety. Jawbreakers and chewing gum could stretch a dime a long way. When it came to stretching food, that was our Ma's department. She could make a few that would tempt a gourmet's palate and it was not unusual to see it on our plates meal after meal. But not once did I ever hear anybody complain. She could take a pound of ground beef and turn it into a delicious spaghetti and meatball sauce that would do us for several hearty meals.

Back to Hard Times

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws