THE CAR THAT RAN....HALITOSIS by ANN RHEIN ALSUP.
I wrote this when I was a Sophomore or Junior
I started the search for the original copy which I found,typed on onion skin paper and scrapbook paper glued on.

 THE CAR THAT RAN....HALITOSIS.
 
Halitosis was a car,but definitely not an ordinary car.Halitosis had sparkle and personality.He had an usual odor that endeared him to all who knew him.. And believe it or not--Halitosis ran! Halitosis ran from September when my Dad bought it until March when it suffered a nervous breakdown and collapsed.

One day  I walked out of the front door and practically fainted.Parked in front of the house as big as life was the most beautiful,shiniest,most alive looking '32 Chevy I had ever laideyes on.You can imagine my surprise when my Dad said,"Here's the keys,she's allyours."I gave a wild yell of delight, ran to the car, hopped in,started it, and sputtered off to find my friend Mary Ann.We'd never have to walk again.

From that moment began the most exciting 6 months in our lives.Four of us paid 25 cents a week towards gas and my Dad's charge account at the filling station doubled during the first month.We didn't walk anywhere.We rattled and bounced to all the games and other big doings. Before the Homecoming game we carefully decorated it with big beautiful blue and gold streamers. Unfortunately we forgot that the driver has to look out the windshield and decorated that too.Consequently, I had to roll down the side window and ride down the street with my head out.That night at a slumber party we decided that the "baby" needed airing.We all piled in our pj's and started off.Oddly enough,we'd done quite a bit of horn honking due to the Broncs winning the game.We were on our way home when the battery quit--- dead.All the other girls piled out and pushed.In the morning they had to push again-- this time in full dress down to the filling station.After that I was quite a little easier on the horn. Halitosis was a friend of all and it was quite a shock to every one when they learned that during the summer Halitosis had been laid to rest at the Sheridan Wrecking Yard.

Mary Ann and I also wrote a song about Halitosis to the tune of:"Mona Lisa"

Halitosis, Halitosis,I adore you.You're so like the Chevy with the mystic smell.Is it only cause you're lonely they have blamed you.For thoseHalitosis shakes you do so well.Do you shake to tempt a Buick, Halitosis? Or is this your way to hide a broken part.Many dents have been brought to your fenders,they just lie there and they die there.Are you warm, are you real Halitosis? Or just a cold and lonely run down lump of lead.

IN MEMORY OF A DEAD BATTERY
Alas, we mourn thee, dead battery spurned,we'll think of you till old we'veturned.  We'll ne'er again hear thy gently roar.For thou are gone forever more.When Halitosis down the street comes slow.We'll think of you and the tears will flow.You've been so faithful
through hear and cold, that your memory will linger when we've grown old  When Halitosis I hear or see.Dead battery,I'll think of thee.

LEROY MAXWELL:  When I first got my driver's license, my dad gave me a 1927 Studebaker President Coupe.He had bought it at the start of WWII,and also a 1929Model A Ford.Irl and Dale drove the Model A but I got the Studie.I remember it had fiber u-joints, and whenever we went up the Red Grade,we had to take several spare U-joints, made from old conveyor belting from the Sheridan Flour Mill.Always had to stop at the Springs,(about half way up the Red Grade) and replace the u-joints. Standard procedure,was to change the belts while the engine cooled down, and the springs had good cold mountain water.The tire size on the Studie was 5.25 X 21.It had been abootlegger's car in the Prohibition Days.The engine was a flat head 6 cylinder, and the old bucket would run right at 100 mph.I know because I drove it that fast when going to Big Horn to have someone buy beer for us. It was always easier to get someone out there to buy it for us.I drove it until I bought my own 1940 Chevy Deluxe. Now there was a car!!!2 door sedan, dark Green.It had a special steering wheel with a spanner  assembly instead of a "necker" knob.The spanner assembly was part of the steering wheel and it had a bar section in the center of the spanner circle,that youcould grab with your hand.It's too bad cars today aren't equipped with thesame or better assembly.With one hand you had as much,if not more,control than with two hands.I worked at Sheridan
Motors, across from the City Library,and one of the old mechanics, Guy Dawkins, helped me put a"Jimmie 270" engine in it.Then we split the manifold and put on glass packs.Anyone who knew me could always tell when I was coming down theroad, because the Chevy was so loud.By the way,back in those days, we tookour shotguns to school, and went  pheasant hunting during our lunch hour.Noone said much about it.Nothing  like today!!!!
Max Maxwell.

MILT CUNNINGHAM,1941:   You youngsters got me beat all hollow with your cars.I couldn't afford acar until I was 25.I couldn't afford it then either,but bought a 1941 Plymouth.I started driving when I was thirteen.My father would not let me drive alone until I was fourteen.Not on the mountain face until I was fifteen, I think.I got my first license in my twenties.I was in Saipan, and my commanding officer told me to get a license. The only vehicle in the motor pool was a five by, so we took that.I'd never driven one, but no big deal.I looked at the plate on the dash that gave the gear system whenever I needed to shift,and I didn't use the brownie box at all.The reason I did not have a license was because when I started driving, Wyoming didn't have such an animal.I don't remember when they started, but I recall it was to raise revenue. You mailed in a dollar, and they sent back a license.Much later I drove for Amil Livingston. His enterprise was somewhere south of the flour mills on the west side of the Big Horn road.I drove a double axle dumper with hydraulic  brakes,if you can believe that.They worked moderately well if you pumpedthem about 14 times.The mountains didn't bother me, because you never use brakes when driving a truck on a long down grade anyway.But I had some hairy experiences otherwise.Drove tractor trailer rigs for a big outfit in Oregon in the seventies.The most gears I ever had were 20 forward and 8 reverse. There's no way Bing can compete in this category!
 
WELDON V. BROUILLETTE:   Wanna bet?You're forgetting the 1933, fire engine red, Ford Roadster with twin chrome spotlights, teardrop fenderskirts,white mud flaps (with red dragon's eye reflectors) and rumble seat that hit George Scales used car lot in the Fall of 1949!(1933 was a vintage year for lots of things.That was the year most of the class of'51 was born!)That little beauty so totally wiped out my life long savings account that it sat,locked in my folk's garage until I earned enough to pay for the license plates and insurance.It was great in the summer but had side curtains instead of roll up windows and you couldn't put on enough clothes to keep warm in the winter.Did I mention that the car had come in from California?The funniest thing that I can remember from high school was Axel Stockhouse sitting in the rumble seat.  Looked like a Great Dane trying to perch in a milk bucket! When I graduated from High School and needed something a little more practical for pounding down the highway,I sold it to Frank Mills, who lived a couple of doors south on Big Horn Avenue.He in turn sold it to someone who lived on a ranch around the Banner area somewhere,who ran it until the engine died and left it abandoned behind a barn.Years later I chartered a plane and flew over every barn between Sheridan and Story,looking for that car.Sniff!

Ron Jacobson:  Bing's Red Roadster. I bought it from Frank Mills and promptly proceeded to make a "Hot Rod" of it, which means we removed all the fenders etc., and were left with just the body.My buddy, Joe Evangeline, and I did this at his garage at the end of Illinois Street.I talked to Joe the other day,and he said " Many of the parts were there up until about ten years ago".They disappeared about that time.I left Sheridan shortly after making the hot rod,and my Dad sold it to Earl Voogd,who lived in the Banner area. I remember seeing it at his ranch near the freeway on one of my visits back to Sheridan many years ago.Maybe Earl would know what happened to it.Sorry about that Bing, and I wish I had it back now in its original condition.I would be entering it in the Temecula, CA "Rod Run" every year.My fondest car memories was my 1941 Chevrolet that I had when in high school.We split the manifold, and put dual exhausts on it and drove many miles cruising Main Street.It was especially fun coming down Court House hill & turning off the ignition for a minute, and then back on,and having the engine backfire.WHAT A NOISE!I sold the car after high school to Roger Reese,and he had it about one month and "totalled" it at the intersection by the post office. What a tragedy!!.

Cars and roads ain't what they used to be.
When I was just a pup, I had a weird imagination. I loved to look out the back window of my folks' car as we drove over that rolling, dipping two lane highway.In my imagination the highway surface was on a huge spool in the front of the car, and unrolled under the car like a huge ribbon as we went. I always enjoyed that highway. It seemed to my uncritical eyes to come close to being a natural part of the scene. I am sure it did not appear so to an old timer, especially an ancientAbsarokee. I even enjoyed its rolling, winding, narrow, no - shoulder character when I drove a double axle dumper for Sheridan Sand and Gravel, in spite of the
occasional close call.

 Someone mentioned the dipping vats out somewhere I think between Sheridan and Acme. Always fascinated by them, whenever they were in use I tried to get my father to drive in so I could watch, but we never did. In my varied experiences as a ranch hand, I never had occasion to help with that chore. Most ranchers did not dip probably too expensive. I think there was not much to it. Force an animal into the chute, then down the slide, and splash, and out they came on the cleated ramp at the other end.

Someone also mentioned the Stanko family. For years they had a slaughterhouse outin that neighborhood. A son named Mike was in my class or one year ahead.

 Remember the man who took paving blocks to heaven with him? Well, does anyone beside me remember Sheridan's wooden paving blocks? I think at one time they were quite extensive. I recall that they were still on several streets, one being the street that crossed Lewis at the bottom of the hill. The blocks were, as I recall,
longer than a clay brick, twice as thick, and somewhat wider. They were black,having been permeated with creosote. Still, eventually they absorbed water,
swelled, and shoved upwards in little pyramids, always with some of the loose top ones tumbling down to the still fitted paving at the bottom. I wish I had saved a
few. They would be museum pieces now.

Does anyone remember the old car doors that were not double latched? Our 1921 Chevy ÷ I  think it was 21, maybe earlier ÷ had the cloth top and single latch
doors. One day my mother was driving to our home up on the hill. She crossed the mill race, and was picking up speed at the bottom for the climb up Lewis. I was
asleep against the door. As she turned the corner, I must have shifted against the door handle, the door flew open, and I somersaulted out. I think the wooden paving
may have been a factor in my not being hurt. Also that I was so small and relaxed.I remember the incident and how frightened my mother was.

 And who remembers the oil pots with open wicks the highway crews lit to warn of ditches, detours, etc.? Shaped like Bolshevik cherry bombs, those things flickered,not brightly, but bravely and steadily in pretty sturdy winds.

 Speaking of cars, if you mention self - centering and pneumatic tires to youngdrivers today, they will probably answer brightly, "Huh?" But some of us recall
when those features were the emphasis of the auto industry advertising. And how about knee action? Even on bicycles. I believe the principle is still in use in new
cars, but they added too much weight for the amount of comfort they provided on a bike.

 Consider the evolution of tail lights. (I hope I did not offend anyone who does not believe in evolution. I could have said, "development.") Early cars, after they
quit using carbide lights and went to electric ones, had one red light in the middle of the spare tire which hung in the middle of the back of the car. Then some bright engineer moved it to the left side so a driver approaching from the rear would know where the side of the car was. Eventually some of the better cars came
out with tail lights on both sides. Boy, talk about class Today some vehicles have them up the sides and across the top.

 And speaking of lights, remember the old polished metal reflectors with a light bulb in the center and a lens like a glass plate across the front? They were always
dusty and often rusty, and would light a road a full 12 or 15 feet ahead. I recall as cars became more plenteous and "modern," sometimes there would be a big safety drive, I think so someone could make some political points. Anyway, you could run into random blockades for spot checking brakes, horn, and lights. If your lights weren't bright enough, you got a little chit to get them fixed in a certain time.So you went home, yanked off the lens, and cleaned up the reflector, gave it a little polishing scrub, and went back and passed the inspection.

I remember when drop center rims came in. I broke my [choose some part of anatomy] trying to get a flat tire off the rim. Finally took it to a station, and never tried to fix another. My folks '36 Ford V8 was the last car I ever cranked. The battery was not dead, but was too weak to turn the engine. I put the crank in, and with my mother held the ignition closed. With the battery power that was left,I managed to turn it over. It started. I think that was the last model made with a crank.

 I resent the new freeway. It is an ugly gash across the face of the countryside.It does not turn respectfully aside to skirt a butte, and it makes no courteous dip to the gulches and coulees, but gnashes the top from the hill and spews it into the draw, and races along with hardly a curve or undulation.

 Freeways have no character. They're all alike, and they are dangerous. I avoid them when I can. I may be foolish, but I would rather risk a two car collision at 50 or 60 miles an hour than a multiple pile up with giant trucks at 70 or 80.

 And I resent what the freeway does, even what it means. Last time I drove from Billings to Sheridan I tore (I did not dare drive at a decent pace) through country. I used to ride through horseback when it was fenceless and I wouldn't see another human for miles.

 Some things have happened to society that I do not like, and they are represented largely by freeways. I am old, and tired, and reminisce a lot, but with all its faults, the past had qualities that we have bulldozed flat and paved over. I like my sepia-toned memories.