Sunday Drive on a Friday Night

 

We took a "Sunday drive" last Friday night.  

The term "Sunday drive" originated from leisurely car drives taken on Sundays in the early to mid-20th century as a form of cheap entertainment. That just happens to be the time I was a kid growing up on a Central Kansas farm. I know about "Sunday drives" firsthand as a kid sitting in the backseat of a car while my dad sang songs like "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" or "Mairzy Doats." Those - plus "I'm An Old Cowhand" - were also part of the sound track of our trips to visit my grandparents in Sublette. 

If you look up the definition of "Sunday drives," it says that initially, these drives were a form of recreation with no specific destination or time constraints. Over time, the term "Sunday driver" has evolved to describe someone who drives slowly, cautiously or inexpertly, often associated with inattentive drivers. Alternatively, it can mean "those who take their time to enjoy the scenery."

Since the only living things we saw on our trek off the beaten path were grazing cattle, we didn't bother any other drivers on our foray down country roads. So I guess, in this case, we'll stick with the definition of "those who take their time to enjoy the scenery."

We ate supper at Sylvia's Oasis restaurant after a fellow golfer recommended the Mexican food there to Randy. On the way home, we took a detour to the Ninnescah Pasture. Randy had been there more recently than I had. One summer when we were still actively farming, we took more trips down that road than any of us would have liked. There was a group of cows and calves that were determined to find the proverbial "greener pastures." No matter what we did, they would not stay in, so we were on 4-wheelers rounding them up more times than either of us wanted. (That group of escapees eventually ended up at the sale barn.) 

Anyway, it was nice to take a leisurely trip down the road - with no purpose in mind, other than checking out the water flow in the Ninnescah ... 

Looking east at the bridge

 

Looking west at the bridge

... And "smelling the roses" - or, in this case -  the wooly verbena. 

 

The road to another familiar pasture - the Rattlesnake Pasture - used to be lined by a tunnel of cottonwood trees, a route I loved in the summer. But several years ago, those aging cottonwoods were cleared away from the road. I'm sure it made practical sense, but I still miss dodging light and shadow as we work our way down that road. I imagined Randy's predecessors 120 years ago appreciating the road less traveled as they brought cattle to the Rattlesnake pasture and then checked them throughout the summer months.

July 2013 - This was before the township tore down most of the cottonwoods along the road to the Rattlesnake Pasture.

Maybe those nostalgic memories factor into my love of a tree-lined road near the Ninnescah Pasture, where the trees still tower over the dirt road and the sun plays peekaboo among the branches.

 

 You can't beat a Sunday drive on a Friday night.

 

Look for chances to take the less-traveled roads. 

There are no wrong turns.

-- Susan Magsamen 

 

*** 

And an update on the bridge north of our house: We drove up to the bridge last evening to check out the progress. Completion is definitely closer, but the Road Closed signs remain. However, all the big equipment is gone, and the new guardrails are in place. 

On August 5, the public works guys told Randy that the bridge would be done in 2 weeks. We'll see if their prediction holds true. 

 

Bridge Over Peace Creek Water

 

You remember the story of the Three Billy Goats Gruff from your childhood, right? The three billy goats wanted to get from one meadow to the next. But, in order to make the trip, they needed to cross a wooden bridge with a big troll stationed under the bridge, wanting to eat them up. 

The little goat's hooves went Trip-Trap, Trip-Trap as he crossed the wooden bridge. He told the troll something bigger and tastier would come along. So, the troll allowed him passage to the other side. 

The middle-sized goat's hooves made a Trap-Rap, Trap-Rap sound as he crossed the bridge. He, too, did a bit of fast-talking and outmaneuvered the ravenous troll, throwing the bigger goat under the bus - or under the bridge, so to speak.

And the big goat hammered out a Stomp-Tromp, Stomp-Tromp as he crossed the bridge and also outwitted the lurking troll. (In some versions, there's violence involved and the troll's untimely demise. We'll just keep it to the PG version for our purposes and say that all the billy goats arrived and were able to graze on greener pastures.)

The wooden bridge over Peace Creek always made me think of that story, especially when its planks were struck by dozens of cattle hooves pounding their way across it during one of our many cattle-moving days. 

 

   

The bridge - located a couple of miles north of our house - has been a conduit from 4th Street Road to our house for me for 40 years. It was the start of the route to visit the library in Hutchinson and other destinations there. But, more importantly, it was the route to get to much of our farm ground and pastures.

Randy grew up less than a half mile from the bridge, so it's been a life-long centerpiece for him. Besides being a "thoroughfare" for our farming operation, it was a childhood location for the Fritzemeier kids to meet the Hornbaker cousins for a little neighborly fun.  

This was a photo taken by my late brother-in-law, Lyle. It shows part of the bridge in fall.

 

When Randy's brother Lyle died in September 2020, I posted the photo above, and mentioned the excursions to the Peace Creek bridge. I got this response from one of those neighbor "kids:"

Oh the stories to tell of deeds done here! The famous rocket tree, picking leeches from between our toes, the nest of owlets beneath the bridge, fishing with string and a safety pin and never understanding why we were such unlucky fishermen, and the hundreds of miles racing our bikes down those sandy roads.

Pam Hornbaker Turner

Since April 22 this spring, the Reno County Public Works department has been working on the bridge, so we've had to detour from our normal route. 

As I looked for photos of the bridge, I realized I've probably taken more photos from the bridge than I've taken of the bridge. 

Taken from the bridge on a spring/summer day.

October 2018, when we got an overabundance of rain.

 

A winter scene from the bridge.

But a Kim's County Line blog search did yield several images of this important way we've gotten from Point A to Point B throughout the years - spring, summer, fall and winter.  

One of the public works guys told Randy on Tuesday, August 5, that it would only be a couple more weeks before they are done. None of us who live along the route are going to bet on that completion date. But I guess it's something they can aspire to, right?

Photo by Randy - May 4, 2025

Since the April start date, Randy has taken periodic trips to check their progress. His first one was taken on May 4.

Shelby, and her husband, Justin, bought Melvin and Marie's house. Shelby, too, has chronicled the bridge progress on her Facebook page.

Photo - Shelby Bremer

 Her first photo was taken on May 9.

Photo by Shelby Bremer

Shelby's photo on May 14.

Photo by Shelby Bremer

 Shelby's photo on May 21.

Photo by Shelby Bremer

 And Shelby's photo on July 11 (above).

The photo above was taken by Randy on July 17.

On August 5, Randy watched as they craned one of the spans into place.

 

 That's when the worker optimistically said the bridge would be in place in the next couple of weeks. 

Morning of August 7, 2025

 

 

 

 

 

They'd made a lot of progress when we checked again on August 7.  

However, no longer will there be that clomping sound as cattle walk over the bridge. With this rendition of the bridge, there's no wood. I'm guessing it will hold up better in the long run.

 

We neighborhood people are definitely ready for its completion.  Don't get me wrong: I'm glad they worked on it. Every time I drove the heavy feed truck across it or watched the combine traverse it, I hoped it would stay standing.  

2013 photo accompanying blog post on beaver gnawing down a tree there. Click HERE.

 

 

The wooden bridge was central to many of our cattle-moving endeavors. During one of those times, I had my life flash before my eyes tumbling off that bridge in a 4-wheeler accident in 2019. 

Randy has lived and worked near the bridge for his entire life - nearly 70 years now. This current remodel is the third time he recalls that road crews have worked on it. 

After one of those rebuilds when Randy was about junior high age, Randy's dad asked if he could have some of the wood stripped from the bridge. 

 

That request was granted, and Melvin used it to build feed bunks in the winter pasture by the bridge. 

The bridge looks a lot different, both on top and underneath, with this latest version.

 

2025 version - August 7

On one of Randy's earlier expeditions to view progress, workers had explained that they had driven i-beams into the ground until they reached solid rock. 

 

 

The beams were in 30-foot sections. The workers would weld additional beam on top and keep pounding it in. They reached the rock at 90 feet.

 

 

Maybe this current version will outlive us. We'll see. It has to be finished first. 

Memories Light the Corners of My Mind

 

Randy, Aunt Lorene and Kathy - August 2, 2025

A wedding reveals promises made while a funeral recounts promises kept. Yet, even though they're different on the surface, they both underscore the significance of commitment.

-- Anonymous 

 

A common saying is that weddings and funerals are the two occasions that bring families together, especially extended families who may not see each other often. These events, one celebrating new beginnings and the other marking the end of a life, create opportunities for family members to connect, share memories, and offer support.

 

  

Last weekend, we traveled to Houston for the memorial service of Gary Servos. Gary was married to Randy's Aunt Lorene. Lorene is Randy's mom, Marie's, younger sister. Randy's sister, Kathy, and her husband, Dave, and their two daughters - Amanda and Emily - also made the trip to Texas. We were glad to be the Kansas contingent. 

 

Weddings and funerals certainly weren't the only time we've gotten together with Randy's Texas-based family. But, there's usually a reason that familiar sayings work themselves into our collective consciousness. These life-marking events do seem to bring people together.

 

Garrick, Kathy, Gregory, Stacia and Randy

 

It gave Randy and Kathy an opportunity to reconnect with some of their first cousins. A side note: I blame my finger on the photo on my continuing less-than-perfect eyesight following cataract/glaucoma surgery. I never do that (though my Grandma Neelly was known for it, which I suppose, qualifies as another family memory).

 

As the slide show featuring highlights of Gary's life clicked by - frame after frame - I snapped photos of Gary and Lorene's wedding. Sixteen years ago, they arrived in Stafford, Kansas, for Jill's and Eric's wedding. On that hot August day, they remembered their own wedding day 50 years before at the Stafford United Methodist Church. I sent the photos to Jill and Eric, noting that the vintage photos were reminiscent of the ones taken at their own wedding.

 

Gary and Lorene's family all came to that 2009 wedding, and Gary and Lorene once again stood at the front of the church for a photo - 50 years after they'd celebrated their own union.  

So, I guess there is something to that "weddings and funerals" sentiment.

 

Jill and Eric on those same church steps as Gary and Lorene had come down.

 

Lorene remembered that their August wedding was hot - inside and out. Thankfully, the church had since been outfitted with air conditioning, though it struggled to keep the hot August weather at bay. She mentioned it again on Saturday. 

 

We didn't extend our time in Houston this time. (Back to that whole eyesight thing: It isn't conducive to sight-seeing at the moment since "seeing" is part of the root of the word.)

 

But we divided our trip both to and from into two days. On our return trip home, we finally succumbed to the billboards that dot I-135 from Oklahoma City to Dallas/Fort Worth. We've driven by those billboards for the Arbuckle Wilderness several times - whether on our way to K-State ballgames in Texas, trips to see family and vacations in Galveston at the Servos' beach house. 

 

So, yes: This time, we were the suckers who fell for the tourist trap. We pulled off the highway at Turner Falls and toured the Arbuckle Wilderness. 

 

We had a lady attempt to take our photo at the gate. But when I checked them as we left, I found that there were no photos of us at all. I hope my attempts for her family were better, but I guess we'll never know. I made Randy go back, and I snapped a few of just him. 

We did have several creatures who were glad to see us.

It took some of them awhile to realize that the open window was on Randy's side - not mine. 

We hope they'll use part of the admission price to improve the roads through the "wilderness." 

 

But I guess these are the moments in which memories are made, right?