The Wild Ride Home
A boastful passenger learns the hard way not to challenge a driver on the rough, uneven roads of the lower valley.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
As Clay Puderbaugh knocked off work sitting in the bottom of the Pacific Power & Light Co.’s new well and started for home one night last week, he was picked up by Elmer Johnson in his auto. Clay was invited to sit on one of those little flat tool box seats. 'You'll have to hang on,' cautioned Elmer. 'Rats. I could stand on one foot with my hands in my pockets all the way home,' boasted Clay. 'We'll just see about that,' thought Elmer as he opened up the throttle and began hunting out all the high spots and holes in the road. Clay was tossed around, eventually hanging onto the seat for dear life. That night, Mrs. Puderbaugh was awakened by an unusual noise and discovered it was Clay perched astride the foot of the bed, hanging onto the bedpost with both hands and hollering, 'Let ’er buck! Let ’er buck!'
“Let ’er buck! Let ’er buck!”
This anecdote captures the transition to the automotive age in Washington, where driving on unpaved roads was a test of physical endurance and a frequent source of local slapstick.
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