The Legend of the Dysartsville Plymouth: Based on True Events

By Jim Owens

This book is about the times of growing up in the fifties as a baby boomer, living on a farm, and then moving to town, becoming a teenager, witnessing the growing pains of post-WWII America, and the turbulence of the Vietnam War and its consequences on American society. This book has romance and adventure, from cruising around town to actual accounts of the things that happened during that era that have diminished over time-sock hops, car hops, the county fair, the beginning of Rock N Roll from Elvis to the British Invasion, to men landing on the moon, to Americas march to the new drumbeat for freedom and equality for all, and the street drag racing scene of teenage America. This book puts the spotlight on the late sixties, which were the times that I call magical.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984510471

Jim Owens

I grew up in Western North Carolina near the Blue Ridge Mountains. True events of my exciting life, what I call "growing up in the fast lane", with adventure, romance and street drag racing qualifies me to tell the story to people who actually experienced those times as I did and to new generations about those magical times in the 1960's. Even though time has marched along and big changes have come for me and America, I can never forget growing up barefoot with the dirt between my toes, the smell of cotton-candy at the county fair, fried chicken on Sunday, home-made ice cream or cutting into a cold watermelon with the family. I'm a lifelong native of the county I was born in. These are the things that made me who I am today, and the reason I wish to share them.

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Copyright © 2018 by Jim Owens.

Library of Congress Control Number:              2018902263

ISBN:                  Hardcover                     978-1-9845-1046-4

                            Softcover                       978-1-9845-1048-8

                            eBook                            978-1-9845-1047-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 05/09/2018

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

Prelude     The Legend of the Dysartsville Plymouth

Chapter 1     School Days

Chapter 2     Finding the Fastest Car

Chapter 3     Looking for the Dysartsville Plymouth

Chapter 4     Cruising Around

Chapter 5     Dead Man’s Curve

Chapter 6     Working at the Alco Station

Chapter 7     Spooky Tales

Chapter 8     Christmas at Grandma’s

Chapter 9     Small-Town Memories

Chapter 10   Acting a Little Crazy

Chapter 11   The Final Showdown with the Dysartsville Plymouth

Special Acknowledgements

PRELUDE

The Legend of the Dysartsville Plymouth

This is a story of adventure and romance with America changing right before our very eyes. These were exciting times with the spotlight focused on the late sixties, including the great music of that era. Segregation was happening, man was trying to reach the moon, and the Vietnam War was taking place, but with the pain and tribulation, there was also a great sense of patriotism for America. God and country were very important, along with family values. With all this happening, this is a story of simply growing up, and with the great new music of these times, it can only be described as magical. Rock and roll was just coming in, and folk music was making a comeback. A person can make his life exciting or humdrum. I chose exciting or, in drag racing terms, running wide open.

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Dysartsville Plymouth

Now let me tell you a little bit about the legend that was this souped-up 1963 Plymouth. Located high atop the mountains of Western North Carolina was a small town where three counties came together at the hamlet of Dysartsville—Rutherford County, Burke County, and McDowell County. Dysartsville was known for making moonshine. Other surrounding counties far and wide had already heard of the folklore of a very, very fast car in the sixties. But before that, in the early 1950s, souped-up Ford flat heads would haul moonshine through those and surrounding counties late at night in Western North Carolina. Many times, by moonlight, when the moon was full, these whisky runners would load their cars and travel down the lonesome dirt roads with no headlights on so as to not be noticed by the authorities. Later on in the fifties, the whisky runners would use cars with V8 engines that were much more powerful.

So evolved the legend that was handed down about this car that no one could outrun and the highway patrol could not come close to catching. This car was a 1963 Plymouth, automatic, push button with a 426 Hemi engine with two Holley four barrels. It was rumored to have hauled White Lightning, the devil’s brew, through the mountains and valleys at night. Some Saturday nights when not making a run, the Plymouth would take on all comers who wanted to drag race. No car could outrun the Plymouth that was said to have been pulling over six hundred horsepower. This is the story of my quest to find and outrun the fastest car around. This is the story of the legend of the elusive car famously known as the Dysartsville Plymouth with flashbacks of my time growing up in the mountains of Western North Carolina.

CHAPTER 1

School Days

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R-S Central Ring

This was an exciting time in September 1962. I was turning fifteen years old and getting ready to start my freshman year at Rutherfordton-Spindale (R-S) Central High School. I was one of those so-called baby boomers, born in the late ’40s after the Second World War. We were the generation that was supposed to be the chosen generation, the children of the Great Generation. Building was at an all-time high, following the wave of boomers through elementary and then junior high school and finally high schools, to accommodate the huge increase in the population, plus all the new housing and subdivisions built on the American Dream of homeownership and community.

High school would be where I would be meeting people from all over Rutherford County, North Carolina. I noticed the style of clothing people were wearing; some wore Levi’s, and others wore dress pants as if going to a church social. Penny loafers were in style, but I just wore regular leather shoes, highly polished up brown with Griffin liquid shoe polish. I was very careful when polishing them. If you didn’t put newspaper down, shoe polish would get on the floor. If you had white socks on while polishing your shoes, you could get brown shoe polish on your socks if you weren’t careful. Then you knew you were in for a scolding from Mama. The moral of that story is that you polish your shoes when you have them off.

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Jimmy 8 yrs old

Anyway, I thought I looked pretty good. When I was younger, in elementary school, my hair was slicked down with that greasy kid stuff called Lucky Tiger. I didn’t feel too lucky because my cowlick in the back would not stay down; even if I licked my hand to rub it down, it would still pop up. I looked like Alfalfa of The Little Rascals without the freckles. Haircuts were only $1, but Ralph Sinclair would cut your hair for only 50¢. This meant you could have 50¢ pocket change left over but had very little hair. Ralph was bad about cutting it all off. With that little extra pocket change, you could buy a Pushup, a Fudgesicle, an Orange Creamsicle, or a frozen Banana Popsicle.

Most girls’ hair was turned up at the ends. I think they copied Petula Clark, a famous singer of that time. Others frayed their hair. Most all had bangs, and all wore dresses. They all looked real good to me, but I was shy and a man of few words.

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Jimmy Owens Class of 1966

It was neat meeting all those people, though some had the big head. I didn’t care; guess I did too. I was Jimmy Owens, and I walked by a different drumbeat.

Everything was going well, and I was getting adjusted. I wanted to be liked, but I didn’t blow up a commode on the third floor to get class dismissed, and I sure wasn’t going to swallow a worm in biology. But occasionally, I would carry Becky Jo’s books to fifth-period photography club.

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Swimming hole

I first met Becky Jo on a hot summer Saturday evening on a sandbar at what was called the old swimming hole. The old swimming hole was a deep hole in the curve of Broad River. There was a large oak tree on the bank that hung over the river with a rope tied to it with a car steering wheel at the end of it. You could swing out from the bank and drop into the water, or if you were a daredevil, you could turn loose of it and turn a flip before dropping into the hole.

It was the place for the kids to hang out and cool down during the hot summers in the South. There were all kinds of beautiful cars always parked around that the kids were driving— ’55, ’56, ’57 Chevrolets; ’57 Fords; ’62 Ford convertibles; Studebakers; Dodges; and a few Pontiacs and Oldsmobiles.

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Jimmy in his 56 Chevy Convertable

At that time, I drove a ’56 Chevy convertible. People would stand around their cars listening to the radio, talking, or having picnic lunches on the ground. A lot of the girls would wear stringy, tattered cutoff blue jeans and halter tops with their hair up in pigtails or ponytails. Some wore one- or two-piece swimsuits. They were all tanned up and just natural beauties. It was fun watching people jumping off the rope swing and swimming around in the water.

So this particular Saturday afternoon, my brother Ronnie, our friend Chuck, and I rode out there with the top down. We got out of the car and were just looking around when a skinny freckled-face girl dressed just like Daisy Mae, Lil Abner’s comic strip girlfriend, with her two ponytails caught my eye. She was standing there with three girls whom I knew—Nancy, Frieda, and Marsha May. I had dated Marsha May and Frieda before. So I thought I’d walk over and say something to give me a chance to meet this new girl. So I did.

Hey, Marsha, Frieda. Have you been swimming yet? I said.

They said, No, just standing around, enjoying the sunshine.

Well, who’s this with you here?

Marsha May said, This is Becky Jo.

I said, Hello, Becky Jo, my name is Jimmy Owens. Happy to meet you.

Yes, I know who you are. I pass you in the hallway going to my fifth-period photography class. I’m happy to finally meet you too.

I said, I live in the country out on Maple Creek Road.

She said, I live on a farm out by Gilkey. We have a large peach orchard and grow other produce for market.

I was looking from the pink rose in her beautiful dark hair down to her pretty green eyes set in her pretty face; right to the tightly stretched halter top, lingering there for a moment; and then down to her cute little belly button; and on down to her bare feet. Her toenails were painted pink to match her fingernails, and both were a match to the rose in her hair. I was blown away. I looked back up at her and smiled. You’re as pretty as a pink-speckled pig.

She blushed and said, Thank you. And the other girls giggled.

I said, Let’s all go get in the water.

So we all walked down the sandy bank to the sandbar, put down our towels, and headed for the water. My brother was swinging off the rope swing into the water just then, but I mostly enjoyed seeing the girls swinging into the water. Lillian was coming up next. She had big headlights. I hate to say it, but I hoped her halter would pop off when she hit the water. She grabbed the steering wheel; backed up, ready to swing; and the guys all held their breath. She swung out high and dropped into the deep water. I hoped to see a halter floating to the surface.

Up Lillian popped, her face blushing red, and hollered, My top, my top, where’s my top?

I knew then that good things do sometimes happen to bad boys.

Please help me find my top, she begged, looking at us guys and lying low in the water.

So Ronnie, Chuck, and I all dove in. After a few minutes, bobbing up and down under the water, Mike came up, waving the top, and asked, Is this what you’re looking for, Lillian?

Yes, throw it to me, she said while just keeping her head above the water so as to not reveal too much.

Mike said, Come and get it!

Lillian said, You moron! Just wait till I get my hands on you!

He finally handed over the ransom, and we all got a good laugh.

Becky Jo and I had a great day together, so I made a date for the next Saturday night to pick her up. Since she lived in a big peach orchard, I gave her the nickname of Peaches and started calling her by that.

Back when I was about fifteen and still riding bus number 43 about seven thirty nearly every morning, we would see a little guy named Mikey walking away from his bus stop. Mikey was playing hooky again. Every day you could see him walking away from where he was supposed to be picked up. There were about fifteen dogs with him that were the neighbors’. Since we were just inside the city limits back then, there were no dog ordinances. Mikey did that on and off for months; he just didn’t like school. It was a sight to see all those dogs jumping and licking him and having fun. I think that he finally understood it was a law and he had probably gotten a lickin’ or two from his father for skipping school, so he finally became a regular rider on Bus 43.

I remember one time all of us neighbor kids meeting in a neighbor’s yard and somebody saying that the president’s going to be on TV tonight at eight o’clock and that we may be going to war. My family was all gathered in front of the black-and-white TV when an eagle emblem came up, and then there he was, John F. Kennedy, the president of the United States. He told them Russians to pull out of Cuba or else. That was when the president was the president.

One thing I will always remember is sitting in study hall when the principal made an announcement. There was a little square box up high on the wall. He said, The president of the United States had been shot, and school is being dismissed. Nobody said a word. The students just picked their books, and we didn’t know that President Kennedy had died. It was one of the worst days of my life. For the next three days, all that was on all three channels of the TV was our president lying in state under the rotunda of Congress and his funeral march down the deserted streets of Washington, DC, lined with thousands of mourning citizens. I later learned that Jackie had fashioned it after Abraham Lincoln’s funeral, up to and including the riderless horse, following the caisson holding the casket with the riding boots placed backward in the stirrups, and then John John saluting his daddy as the caisson rolled by, heading to the grave in Arlington Cemetery marked by an Eternal Flame. It all made an impression in my mind that I have never forgotten.

After that sad day, when we lost our beloved president, we would have bomb drills and fire drills because no one knew if it wasn’t some kind of plan from the Russians to weaken our country’s leadership. If we were in our seats in class, we were told to get under the tables and put our heads between our legs. A friend of mine, Bill Cofield, made a joke and said it was to kiss our asses goodbye. This was all due to the tensions and static with the Russians that was called the Cold War.

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The American Flag

The love of God and country was instilled in me at a very early age. We began our school day at Spindale Elementary by reciting the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag of the United States of America. We all stood and put our right hand over our heart, facing the flag, and recited the pledge as follows:

I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Each year as I got older, I understood the true meaning of the Pledge of Allegiance. It was more than just words; it went straight to the heart and soul of our nation. Though I didn’t agree with the way black people were being treated and the signs in the late fifties, such as No Coloreds Allowed, in restaurants, restrooms, and other places, me and my fellow classmates, black and white, were proud to be Americans.

Later on, we learned the Preamble to the Constitution. It went like this:

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

The constitution is a very important part of our nation, especially this quotation: To secure the blessings of Liberty. I promised myself there after learning that that I would never take our country’s greatness for granted and that God was on America’s side. Also, the United States of America adopted the national motto In God We Trust when I was eight years old.

Things did not always go so well when I was growing up. This was during the Eisenhower years. The mills were running on short time. Our family had little money, but we had an abundance of love to keep us going. Sometimes I would lie awake in bed before I said my prayers and went to sleep. I said to myself that things would get better someday for us. I always knew that there would be a sunrise and a sunset and that I must take life day by day. I knew that there was a Supreme Being in heaven that ruled the heavens and the earth. In the scheme of things, I was only a very tiny speck in the universe, and yet to God, I was the most important thing in the universe. Just the aspects of nature showed me that there was a living God, just the simple things like the wildflowers that would bloom during the different seasons—summer, spring, and fall. Each plant has its own season to grow. The butterflies coming in the spring with all their vibrant colors, with the birds nesting in the spring, and even the sounds of the wild crows and the squirrels in the woods plus much, much more evidence showed me that there is a God. It gave me great confidence in him.

There are also some good things that happened at R-S Central in high school. One of the times was when the World Series, the all-American fall classic, was taking place. We could get out of class and go to the auditorium to watch the World Series about