Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

 Jon Logan Sampson recalls life on the turkey ranch at Myrtle Point, OR.

     At the 'ranch,' the story goes that I was on the ground floor, brother Dean was in the hayloft, and 'dropped' something down (I think of it as the jawbone of an ass), which hit me directly on top of the head.  Blood streaming down, etc., I recovered, but always accredited that act to the marble sized lump (which Army surgeons finally removed a decade or so ago).

     In Myrtle Point, something after 1946, I disassembled a 'radio flyer (?)' wagon to construct a 'racer.'  (Wide front axle from a 2X4, etc.)  The test pilot turned out to be - guess who - brother Dean!  The test course was to be the Fair Grounds hill which was not too far from where we lived.  So we took the 'to be tested vehicle & Pilot' to the test course.  We made provisions to protect the pilot by wrapping him in one of Grandma Sampson's rag rugs, and a German helmet which Dunc had brought back from the war (WW II).  The racer worked great (I may have forgotten to add a brake), and toward the bottom went out of control, veered off to the right, and into one of the barn buildings.

(This experience, other than genetics, may have contributed to his becoming a nuclear physicist.)

 

Also, while in Myrtle Point, we were playing 'darts' one day and I put one in his arm.

 

My fascination with small engines continued on to our move to Florence.  There (with Dad's help on design), we constructed a small motor-powered scooter.  It needed a push start, and the 'driver' would then engage the engine and off they would go.  The driver, of course was brother Dean, and the scooter worked great until the local police told us to keep it off of the streets.