Bob drives the pickup

Yes, this is the same Bob that is said to have taken his crib apart at under two years old.

In our 1952 yard was my Dad's new, red International pickup. In those days, thieves and robbers were prosecuted by a very local jury so Dad was able to leave the keys in the pickup without much worry. Come to think of it, our rough lumber front door probably did not have a lock of any kind - and, as mentioned earlier, our relative poverty probably left us with little that anyone would want.

With the door shut having the keys in the car was apparently not much of a concern for my parents. Little did they know. I somehow managed to get the door open. From there it was a small climb to the bench seat. And from there, a short reach to the post where the keys dangled. I had seen Dad start the pickup many times since my position was on the bench seat between Mom and Dad. I leaned forward and with the pickup in first gear turned and held the key. The starter engaged the flywheel. The flywheel turned the standard transmission gears. The transmission gears turned the drive-shaft which turned the wheels. And Bob was off on an adventure through the front yard. I guess I got bored before driving over the short cliff to the west of the house. I can remember Dad's wonder at how the pickup got where it was. Of course, I had no idea how that happened.