The other night I was "surfing" through some TV channels and happened upon an old rerun of the "Dukes of Hazzard!" Several years ago, my family would look forward to spending Friday nights in front of the television watching "Dukes," Dallas and Falconcrest! The "Dukes of Hazzard" was a great starter show because after a hard day at work (or school), you could watch these characters and their misadventures and you really didn't have to do much thinking to "get it." You only had to "ingest" it. The plots were so stupid and corny that they actually were fun.
Add to the fact that the character of Sheriff "Roscoe P. Coltrain" was James Best from Powderly (and another of Ted Everly's famous cousins) and you had yet another reason to watch.
When we watched the Duke family which consisted of Bo and Luke Duke (what parent in their right mind would name a kid "Luke" Duke?), their cousin "Daisy," and "Uncle Jesse," it made us appreciate coming from a fairly "normal" family. After all, where were all of these people's parents and just who was "Uncle Jesse" anyway? Daisy wasn't Bo or Luke's sister....she was their cousin. Bo and Luke weren't brothers...they were also cousins and Uncle Jesse was all of em's Uncle. That means that apparently Bo's Dad (& Mom) were either dead or they deserted him, as did Luke's folks, and if that weren't enough, Daisy's folks were the same. If all of these parents actually died, how? If they deserted their kids, that made them all pretty "low-life," so how come Uncle Jesse turned out so good and willing to raise all of these nephews and nieces?
What was "Boss Hogg's" real occupation and how did he become a powerful politician in Hazzard County? How did Roscoe P. Coltrain ever get elected sheriff (and since the show was on ten years, he apparently got re-elected)? Who would vote for such a "bumbling idiot?" Who actually owned the "General Lee" (the souped up Dodge Charger the Dukes drove)? Did it belong to Bo or Luke? If I was going to go out on a Saturday night and "shoot out some lights" or "burn up the strip," would I actually do it in such a recognizable car? How were they able to get insurance (or did they)? These were questions that were left up to the viewer to answer in their own mind. This was entertainment we would laugh out loud at. Wanna know why? Because when it got down to it, pretty much all of us around here had some "Duke" blood in our veins.
Oh sure, we didn't drive such an obvious car and we weren't quite as reckless as they were but deep down, we were a lot like them.
I'll give you some examples. Street drag racing was pretty popular in the fifties and sixties. I had mentioned in a couple of previous blogs that you could purchase a 400 horsepower car right off the showroom floor or you could easily build one. And we did it, too. We'd have our Camaros, Firebirds, Vettes, Roadrunners, GTO's, Malibu SS's, 442's...whatever. We'd circle the Dairy Maid or Country Kitchen, peel out a little and pretty soon we'd head out for the "Bottoms"......"Bell Bottoms" that is!
Since we didn't have too many "organized" drag strips in these parts, street racing was necessary. It established "manhood." We could get up a quick drag race pretty much anywhere but when we got "serious," we headed out to Bell Bottoms. Bell Bottoms was about as unlikely a drag strip as you can imagine. Oh sure, it was straight and pretty level and was probably about a mile and a half long (which should have given plenty of "slow down" space, but it usually didn't). The problem with Bell Bottoms was that it was actually closer to a one lane road than a two.
Couple that with lining up two powerful cars side by side with a human "starter" in between them and it made for some pretty exciting action.
Bell Bottoms was out near Martwick and it lay between two cornfields. If a couple of cars were pretty evenly matched, the race didn't necessarily stop after a eighth or quarter mile....shoot, sometimes they'd race to the end and then play "chicken" when approaching the curve to the right. More than once one of the cars would take off out into the corn field. That's when we had a sort of "Dukes of Hazzard" mentality.
From time to time a race would be too important to drive all the way out to Bell Bottoms, so we'd head out to the "Brownie Stretch!" The "Brownie Stretch" made Bell Bottoms look like an expressway. It was on Highway 62 just shy of Nelson Creek. If you've ever traveled that road, it's probably one of the "curviest" in Western Kentucky. The "Brownie Stretch" was about three miles east of the city limits and it was the closest thing to a straight stretch out that way. The last thing you'd think it would be would be a drag strip. It was about 1/8 mile long between two sharp curves and went downhill then back uphill. If you had a pretty hot car, you'd just have shifted into fourth gear and be running about 75 miles per hour when it ended and it took some pretty slick maneuvering to make that curve and still be on your wheels. Just ask Jack Burns...he managed to flip his '57 Plymouth a couple of times after a race one Saturday night. Luckily he was unhurt.
A group of friends I usually hung with liked to go to the "organized" drag races up at Beech Bend Park on Sunday afternoons. It was a great way to "while away" a day and we got to see some of the "Big Boys Toys" in action up there. One particular day, we decided we'd race another group of buddies back to Central City. Car #1 (the one I was riding in) belonged to David Greenwood's parents. It was a 1960 Pontiac Bonneville (or was it a Catalina...didn't matter, it was a big ol' 4 door sedan). Car #2 belonged to Charles Frank Winkler (now Dr. Charles Frank Winkler). It was a "slant six" Dodge Lancer (a first cousin of the Plymouth Valiant). Both cars had about six people in them.
The rules were simple. First one to the four way stop (intersection of U. S. 431 & 62) was the winner. That was it! At that time, there was no four lane road leading into Bowling Green. The only way back was 231 to Morgantown and Hwy. 70 through Ennis and Browder to 431, then 431 to Central City. David's Pontiac, being a V-8 got an early lead heading out of Bowling Green but Charles Frank's little Lancer hung with us pretty good. We'd pull away on the few long stretches, but the little Lancer handled better in the curves. You must remember that what we were doing was "idiotic," but since we were pretty much "idiots," it didn't seem to matter much. We drove most of the way over 75 miles per hour and every opportunity we could get, we'd increase that to 100 mph. Both highways 231 and 70 were narrow and curvy. Although the "Dukes of Hazzard" wouldn't come along for another twenty years, I witnessed a scene right out of that series that particular Sunday afternoon. We were between Bowling Green and Morgantown. The road was narrow and hilly and curvy. We were bumper to bumper and come sliding around a curve to the left, hitting a straight stretch that run downhill, then uphill and another sharp curve to the right. We rounded the first curve and headed down the stretch. On the left I noticed an old farmhouse that had a bunch of chickens running loose in the front yard. We "bottomed out" at the base of the hill and began the uphill run before approaching the curve to the right. About that same time, a County Constable came around the curve from the other direction. Since we were running so fast, it was necessary to move to the inside lane in order to make it around the curve at the speed we were going. Unfortunately it didn't leave a lot of room for the old Constable to "share his lane" with us so he did the natural thing....he hit the ditch on the side of the road and drove down in a pasture parallel to the road and directly into the front yard of that old farmhouse. As we rounded the curve I remember looking back and seeing Charles Frank right on our bumper and behind him at the bottom of the hill I saw the Constable's car bouncing around down there and then it looked like an "explosion of feathers," where he had hit a flock of those chickens. Just like the Dukes of Hazzard.
We led the way all the way home and as we approached Central City, we crossed the Toll Road where it became a four lane for a short way.
Just as it began to narrow back into a two lane, Charles Frank managed to pass us and he got to the four way stop first. We went to the Dairy Maid for a Coke and to replay the events of that afternoon. When we looked at our watches, we had driven from Bowling Green to Central City, down the most primitive roads imaginable in 35 minutes. That had to be some kind of record. Our guardian angels were surely riding with us that day.
Years later on Friday nights, we'd watch the Dukes of Hazzard and laugh at how stupid they acted. Little did I realize that when I was watching them, I was actually "looking into a mirror." "Yeeeeeeee - Hewwwwwwww!"
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