One of my favorite memories with the old man is attending Missouri’s upset of No. 1 Oklahoma in October 2010. I will always cherish storming the field with my 65-year-old father (and about 20,000 other Mizzou fans).
Now, the actual trip from Topeka to Columbia, however, does not rank as a favorite memory, though I certainly won’t forget it. That was when I realized Dad was no longer a fast driver – he was overly (occasionally dangerously) over aggressive.
During that trek, the old man roared across Interstate 70, often riding the ass of the car in front of us with only a few feet to spare. Not exactly a relaxing drive through Kansas and Missouri.
“Dad, could you back off this guy just a little?” I asked.
“Son, I’m 65 years old. I don’t care. He’s in the fast lane and needs to get the $#$@ over.” He said.
“Well, I’m 34, and I’d like to make it to 35,” I replied.
We made it to Columbia two hours before the game started (largely thanks to him channeling his inner Mario Andretti), and the rest of the night was admittedly awesome.
In the months and years after Dad passed away, the family often joked about the old man’s exploits behind the wheel, stories of excessive speeds, tailgating and middle fingers we all shared (endured).
It came as no surprise during the research for my second book that I came across an incredibly interesting story about my father’s early transgressions, notably a high-speed chase as a teenager in Wichita.
According to an article in Wichita Beacon, Dad was on parole in 1961 on burglary and larceny charges and on the turnpike near Belle Plaine, Kansas, after burglarizing three businesses in Baldwin.
“A 16-year-old youth, identified as Ernie W. Webb, drove into the Belle Plaine Interchange of the Kansas Turnpike and asked for directions to Denver,” the article said. “Personnel there told Webb that he was headed in the wrong direction and should go back to Wichita and get off the turnpike. As the youth acted somewhat suspiciously, Trooper Walt Weltse decided to question him.”
The trooper pulled my father over and exited his car, walking toward the 1955 Chevy the old man was driving. Predictably, Dad floored it, racing up the turnpike to elude the officer.
“A chase at speeds exceeding 100 miles per hour followed, but at the South Wichita Interchange at 47th, Webb’s car ran over the embankment and slammed into the security fence. The youth got out of the car and ran.”
Dad’s escape was temporary, but only because he made a mistake.
“Well, I got stupid,” he said. “I tried to get out of there in a cab, and they got me.”
“I decided it was rather peculiar that a cab should be out this far just shortly after sunup on a Sunday morning,” said Detective Bud Phipps.
Dad jumped out of the car and ran but was quickly cornered and arrested. At age 16, he was headed to the prison in Hutchinson, Kansas. You live and learn. The sharp-minded man I grew up with never would have been busted asking for directions.
“Obviously not overly bright,” he said. “Then again, neither is stealing a car or breaking into homes.”
TWELVE DAYS 2025, PART VII: Christmas and Lebanon Junior High
TWELVE DAYS 2025, PART VI: Christmas with mono
TWELVE DAYS 2025, PART V: ShowBiz, Dragon’s Lair and other difficult games
TWELVE DAYS 2025, PART IV: “Dutch,” a guilty pleasure
TWELVE DAYS 2025, PART III: Christmas in Independence
TWELVE DAYS 2025, PART II: Craving an NES Classic
TWELVE DAYS 2025, PART I: An update on the search for James Danny Hollingshead
ABOUT MY SECOND BOOK: THE OLD MAN
ORDER “GOODBYE, BUTTERFLY: MURDER, FAITH AND FORGIVENESS IN A SMALL KANSAS TOWN”