I usually rode on the back of our flat bed Studebaker when we went to town, usually once a month. Flat bed, no side boards.
Went to school, worked on the farm and had my first public job by the age of 12.
Got my first tickets at 13 in that same Studebaker.
Over weight and driving w/o license.
Had both tickets thrown out by the judge. Judge asked the State Trooper if he expected that wheat to get to the mill by itself.
Get to the mill, spend the day and night inching ahead one truck at a time.
Get home to pick up another load and head back to the mill.
Finest form of recreation was sitting on the back porch during a thunderstorm and watching the lightning.
Learned to love the smell of new cut hay, the smokey haze of oak fires curing the hung tobacco.
Being lulled to sleep by the bawling of 50 or 60 weaning calves.
All the things I did because I was needed to do it, my parents would get in serious trouble for today.
Now a days the neighbors would pitch a hissy fit listening to calves bawling for mama. They might even call the law.
I remember when the only boys in school the first month were the boys who lived in town.
Dang it, we were ALL free range kids back then.
True... I picked tobacco...Shade Grown under cheesecloth...it was hot...now immigrants do the work not pre teens.