Summer is here, and it was time, just like the hibernating bear, for the Dargan Boy to rise from his restive and take flight to the mountains of northern Pennsylvania.
My pal, ’57 Chevy Ken (Leasure) was ready to take flight too, and we headed to Wellsboro, for a short weekend adventure.
Oh, by the way, Ken will soon have to find a new ‘call name’ because after 19 years he sold his 1957 Chevy to an excited lady from northern PA. The lucky woman came down last week to pick up this most beautiful car; memories of his classic vehicle still remain.
Ken had a lot of fun with that car, winning many trophies, but more importantly, he drove his antique on wheels out west down the old nostalgic Route 66 highway to reminisce of a bygone era.
Ken made many friends on that trip and ‘stood on the corner’ in Winslow, Arizona, with his arms draped around the Bronze Jackson Browne statue. As you may recall, Browne and Glen Frey wrote the most popular Eagles’ song, ‘Take it Easy’.
Do you remember the favorite verse of that Eagles hit?
“Well, I’m a-standin’ on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, and such a fine sight to see. It’s a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed Ford slowin’ down to take a look at me.“
I always enjoy singing that verse when it comes across the radio, or on my Eagles CD; I bet you do too!
Ken and I have been friends for many years,and he has introduced me to Wellsboro, which is one of my favorite stops these days.
During many trips there over 50 years, Ken has made many good friends; Steve and Barb, Jim, Bobby and Diane and a slew of others. We often go to the Crossroads Inn for a good meal, libation and local conversation about many of those friends. There are many laughs to be had and memories to be shared.
Steve’s hunting pictures are hung on a back wall with his prize game moose taken on a Newfoundland hunting trip; another one where he is pictured with a large mountain lion. His wife Barb works at the Inn and makes fine coffee. Ken’s pal Jim was there too. Jim owns an antique 1933 Chevy truck.
We stopped at a nearby winery near Wellsboro where Helga, another old friend from southern Germany, lives; she’s a most pleasant lady with fond memories and a beautiful German accent. Ken and Helga have been friends for many years; Helga even drove Ken’s Chevy once.
Bobby and Diane invited Ken and the Dargan boy over for breakfast before we left PA. They own a lovely wooded area prepared for a future home, and even have a wild large bear that stops by to visit them; they are a lovely and kind couple.
Ken’s son David and wife Julie were in a nearby camper, and we shared a joyful evening around a campfire telling stories of past days and old friends; I mentioned giving several eulogies for some very dear friends.
Ken asked me what I might say if I had the opportunity to give his eulogy? I remained quiet.
What might I say you’re asking?
Ken was in Vietnam from ’66-’67 as a crew member of a Navy Landing Ship, Tank (LST). This ship delivered many supplies to include tanks to war zones.
He owned and operated a garage for many years in Greencastle.
As he and my wife had medical appointments at a local hospital years ago, they exchanged pleasantries, and Sheila shared that she lived in Antietam near Dargan.
He asked if she knew the Dargan Boy who wrote his favorite newspaper columns; she replied, “I’m married to him and he is in the car right now,” and she came out to get me. Ken and I became instant friends on that day.
We have remained close pals ever since. We have traveled to Wellsboro several times, shared a few libations and many talks about all sort of places and topics.
Ken was once a martial arts instructor.
My daughter Amy and husband Bob fixed Ken some delightful grub since he had no cook at home, and I have delivered my homemade Dargan pies to him.
Ken is an honest fellow, a generous tipper to all waitresses and waiters, a good dad to his sons David and Terry, and a trustworthy friend to all who know him.
What else could I say?
Ken is a great personal friend, the best kind and an honorable man.
To be continued ~ a visit with Ken to the Glenn Curtiss Museum in Hammondsport, New York.
