A big puff of blue smoke shot out the back end of the 55 Ford. We all boarded at 9am for the big day trip to Kewanee.... the land of relatives and pigs. Dad had checked all four very bald tires but never told anybody about losing first and third gear and the reverse gear that evening before.

Dad gently feathered the clutch and we slowly rolled forward. Normally a 45 minute drive turned into an hour and 45 minutes. Top speed was 25 mph except for the three small hills that we had to conquer. All the windows were rolled down that mid-July morning and mom wasn’t even concerned about her hair getting messed up... a rare occurrence. 

I really enjoyed being able to count all the livestock along the way. It was so easy. It was a quiet ride except for the continuous whining sound of second gear. It sounded kinda like a thousand mosquitoes in my ear. Everyone had to yell to be heard... not much was said for some reason. Dad was fake singing as if all was well until we were passed by a farm tractor hauling a huge load of straw bales on the first small hill we eventually conquered. His singing stopped right then. I was allergic to straw and I sneezed for the next 3 miles following the tractor at about 20 yards. Once the swelling went down in my eyes I actually began counting cows and chickens again. At times I could yell loud enough to say hello to the farmers who must have been a little surprised at our slow approach and streaming blue smoke. I guess we were just unique. 

We arrived at the destination farm which was all new to me. Mom tried to explain that it was an unknown cousin of ours... twice removed. I never quite understood what that meant. Dad swung wide through the front yard and then behind the farmhouse so he could be pointed in the correct direction for our getaway later that day. My unknown cousin Eddie Yonk burst out the back door to greet us all. He still had chunks of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich stuffed in his mouth but it didn’t seem to matter to Eddie. “Folks call me Yeddy so you can too.”  Yeddy and I became friends. He was 16 years old and I was ten. 

We headed toward the barns and pigs. There was nothing more wonderful to me than seeing a couple hundred pigs at one time. I asked Yeddy if they each had their own name. He started pointing at the look alike pigs and calling them by name. After about 3 dozen I told him that I believed him and he said, “Hey I can call them all by name if you want me to.” I quickly changed the subject by asking about the big long school bus behind the barn. 

The bus was all covered with dust but I could tell it once was all white. It had prison like bars covering all the windows. I asked why the bars were there and he laughed and said, “So the pigs don’t jump through them cousin!”  He brought me into his bus and all the seats were removed except the two front ones. He told me that he drove the pigs to market in the bus. Once again I believed in Yeddy. “Want to take a ride in it now?” I asked if it had all the gears working. 

We rolled out to the gravel road and I had a tour of lots of other gravel roads for about three dusty hours. About an hour into the expedition we came upon one railroad crossing with one track. The bus came to a halt and he shut off the engine. I asked what we were doing and he replied, “Dad told me to never drive across the railroad track until the train has completely passed by.” There were two farm trucks behind us and they were honking their horns and yelling something out their window but Yeddy ignored them patiently. Sure enough about ten minutes later I could see a train approaching about two miles away. The farmers behind us were really honking their horns a lot at that point. Sweat was pouring down my face in the heat and blasting horns behind us and that STUPID train honking its own horn toward us. For a brief moment, I wished I was still in the 55 Ford. The train passed by and the farmers passed us throwing clouds of dust in our faces. Yeddy said, “Those boys better read the rule book about railroad crossings.” I asked if we could find our way back to the farm soon. “Of course, I can cousin. I do this every day.” 

We got back to the farm two hours later. My family was packing up the Ford as I jumped into the front seat. I began to love that old Ford in a way that words can’t express. I didn’t notice that my uncle had replaced the back wheels with oversized snow tires. The Ford now pitched forward at an angle that looked like we were traveling down a very steep hill. Outside of the Ford emblem on the glove compartment being embossed on my forehead I actually felt normal again. I asked my mom why my cousin was twice removed. She shook her head and said, “Honey it’s too difficult to explain.” I didn’t say anything about the sign on the white bus…Illinois Department of Corrections. Twice removed from what and why?

Love your neighbor. Hug your kids and stay away from unknown cousins.