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Trip through the East Texas Pine Forests
In 1987 my husband Paul was an auditor for Ford dealerships. In the spring he was auditing a dealership in Lufkin, Texas.
Staying in a motel while he worked during the day was fun for a while. My crochet projects gave me something to do, and at
that time I was writing a column entitled "Your Handwriting Is You" for a weekly publisher in Cooke County. Preparing that
column was enjoyable, too, but after mailing it to Gainesville I had a lot of time on my hands. At lunchtime Paul would drive
to the motel and take me to lunch; after that the evenings were pretty empty.
My sister Gwen Sheffield had moved to Orange, Texas, earlier that year. Since it was only about a two-hour drive, I decided
to make a trip to visit her. The road between Lufkin and Orange was a four-lane divided highway, but I had heard of a back
road that wound through many small towns which were filled with antique stores and craft shops. This route sounded much more
exciting, so I took it. A two-lane, narrow winding road with what I thought would be sparse traffic was appealing to my adventurous
spirit. With tall pine trees lining both sides of the road, there was almost a feeling of isolation--that is, until I came
upon an old car with an ancient driver. He kept his speed below twenty-five miles per hour. Between the "no-passing" zones,
we were meeting just enough traffic to prevent my passing him. For nearly an hour I tried to get past him, getting more frustrated
with each failed attempt. Finally, as we neared a small town, I saw my chance. An eighteen-wheeler was approaching in the
distance, and I calculated that by "gunning" the motor I could pass the old car and whip back into my lane. This I did without
slowing my speed as I went around the old gentleman. Too late, I saw the Highway Patrol car right behind the eighteen-wheeler--but
he saw me! In less than a minute he turned around and was after me with sirens blaring and red lights blinking. As I pulled
over to the side of the road, the old gentleman, still traveling twenty-five, went by laughing!
Walking up to my window, the patrolman tipped his hat and asked politely, "See your driver's license, Ma'am?" As I produced
it, he asked, "Do you have some emergency that was causing you to speed, Ma'am?"
I admitted that I did not. "No, sir, I'm on my way to visit my sister in Orange. She's a Baptist preacher's wife, and they
moved there not long ago. I haven't seen her for a long while, and I was just anxious to get there."
"Do you know how fast you were going?"
"No, sir, I was just enjoying the beautiful scenery."
Shaking his head slightly, he said, "Mrs. McCormack, as fast as you were going, the scenery was just a blur!"
I decided I'd better just keep my mouth shut. He wrote out my ticket, and as he handed it to me, told me that if I wanted
to plead guilty, I could just mail it to the justice of the peace in a town whose name was not familiar to me. I asked him
where that town was located. He again shook his head slightly, and said, "You just came through it."
Red-faced, I thanked him and drove off, carefully maintaining a little less than the posted speed limit.
As I drove on to Gwen's, I decided to tell her about the incident, but in my own inimitable fashion. On arriving, I apologized
for being late, but told her I had stopped to talk to a nice-looking man. "A friend of yours?" she asked.
"No, I had never met him before."
"But where did you see him?"
"At the side of the road."
"And you just stopped and talked to a man you didn't know?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes, and he asked for my name."
"But, Lowell Ray, you didn't give it to him, did you?"
"Why, yes, and my address, too, and then he wrote his name for me."
By this time Gwen was looking faint and gasping for breath, but her younger son, Donald Wayne, was there, and he caught on.
With a grin on his face, he asked, "Uh, Aunt Lo, was this man wearing a uniform?"
"Why, yes, he was--and he had a big star-shaped ornament on his lapel."
Gwen sat down and started laughing. She said, "You really had me going. I was about ready to call the mental health people,
because I thought you had lost your mind. The idea! Stopping to talk to a man you didn't even know."
She forgave me for teasing her because I had only told the truth in telling my story. I had only dramatized the event.
Lowell McCormack
Gainesville, Texas
Published:
May 15,
2006
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