Excerpt: SHUNNED ...

In the year 1920 …
For young Abraham, at 16, the winter of 1920 had its pros and cons. The welcome break from the endless hours of the fall harvest also brought with it restlessness, after too many days and nights cooped up inside out of the bitter cold and icy wind. While he did now get the privilege of driving his father's prized Model T on the weekly necessity-only supply trips, he also had to be the one to get it started on those cold winter mornings.
When the weekly-list became too long to put off any longer, Abraham would rise early, long before father was up, and start the laborious process of readying the tin-lizzie for the long day to town. In the shivering wee hours, heading down the narrow creaky staircase under moonlight streaming past the edges of wool blankets covering the window, Abraham’s thick wool socks padded across the board-floor kitchen. Reaching into the old black cast range with the poker to shake down the ashes he would load more coal in hopes of firing up a searing stove to heat the copper boiler full of cold water.
While waiting for the rolling boil of the kettle it was out to shovel. The snow drifts, piled high against the doors took some getting past, and once cleared, Abraham went to the pump for fresh pails of water. Returning to the kitchen, stopping long enough to warm up somewhat and light the lanterns, one for mother coming down to start the morning meal, and one to take along himself, he ventured out again to the frigid garage to tackle the task of starting the car.
Throwing a block under the front wheel, Abraham went around the backside jacking up one wheel behind to flow the gas forward, and reached for the crank. Relying only on the old paint stir stick he stuck in the crankcase, Abraham’s experience determined enough oil as he walked around the side door. Reaching inside he lifted the frozen old seat cushion already mended twice now, much to his mother's ire, unscrewed the gas cap poked in the other end of his makeshift dip stick gauging that the level of gas was also sufficient for the long day trip ahead.
Shivering in the cold early morning air, Abraham headed back to the kitchen for the now hot water he needed to fill the radiator and spill over the iced mechanics in hopes of an easy start. Cranking with all the strength of his one arm and the choke wire in the other he was ready to make his first attempt. Abraham thrilled in the process of getting the Ford to start on the first try. Turning the key on the old coil box under the windshield, the car took on a rumbling hum and all the hard work was not in vain. Never skip one step, take your time and things should go well, was what father had taught him on this task and every other one and much to Abraham's teen sense of rightfulness surprisingly father was always mostly right. Not that Abraham, or Abe as he preferred to call himself, would mention it much to his father.
Tossing the choke and his makeshift dipstick into the toolbox bolted to the running board, he added the jack out from under the rear wheel and hopped into the car. Backing out chugging his way to the front door of the house and back inside to again warm himself up as the car did the same, Abraham joined father for a morning prayer and a quick meal, mother now had laid out ready for the men before their journey to town.
Armed with a list of supplies and deliveries carefully plotted, father readied himself in the right passenger side while Abraham tucked a full cream can on the floor between father’s legs, and then on his lap gingerly piled a dozen wooden crates of eggs. Hopping into the driver’s seat they both closed the doors as mother passed to them through the window a quilt she had lovingly warmed beside the stove, wrapping it over their legs and draping it around the egg boxes piled to the windshield, off they went.
The driveway, sloped downward from the road, was better tackled backed out of first thing in the morning, as father said, so as to let the fuel run down to the engine and lessen the chance of a stall-out so early in the day, and the risk of having to repeat the entire process of starting the car all over again.
Clearing the driveway they bumped over the winter ruts onto the ice packed dirt roadway, breaking their first egg of the day. Venturing onward in the cold crisp hint of first morning light, God's light as father had said many a time, Abraham and his father, David, were at last on their way to town!