To travel with a Danner is an adventure!  Sometimes exciting, sometimes fearful, always reciting prayers of "Please - no Lord, or Oh Lord or thank you, Lord; or even Yes!  Let's do it again". As I think of my riding experiences - 73 years of them with Pop Danner to my youngest son, Rob, I feel all sorts of emotions.  I've gone from goosebumps -- fear -- pleasure -- laughter.  Most of these memorable rides were before seatbelts were invented. My earliest memory is a ride with Lewis early in the 1930s in Hollybrook, Va.  He had a homemade body of wood - 2 by 4 plank using your feet to maneuver it right or left.  There were 4 wheels (whatever was available) and it was powered by a push from Bill and down a seven-degree dirt road.  My next memory is of the old Indian head motorcycle of Bill's.  Early on Sunday afternoons we would go to the top of the hill at Boruff Street.  I would push Bill off hoping that he could get started before he arrived at the stop sign at Glennwood Ave.  Usually he did!  But by dark you could see Bill pushing it up the hill. My first real ride was in Daddy's green CC Camp trucks.  He could really fly in that thing on the winding and curving mountainous dirt roads.  He knew just where to break before a curve and how to floorboard it coming out of the curve.  He would always cut across the curve if he could see that no one was coming.  All CC trucks had a governing device set at 35 mph.  Dad was an exception to that rule! One day during a heavy rain storm, I was in the car with Dad.  We were coming back from Rocky Gap.  There were two muddy tracks that you had to stay in.  We came to the river that had to be "forced" across the river bed.  The river was high and flowing swiftly.  On approaching the river we spotted a farmer and a large mule.  Dad stopped the truck.  The farmer said, "Mr. Danner, I will hook you up here and pull you across for 50 cents.  If you choose to try it without me and my mule should get stuck or flooded out in the water, I'll come and pull you out.  But that will cost you $1.00, since I will have to chain the car to the mule in foot deep water.  Boy, I could see old Dad burning over that decision.  At first I thought he was going to gun the car and see if he could make it.  Finally, he looked over at me, back to the farmer and said, "Hell, that's too high a price but hook me up now."  At least I knew I was worth 50 cents. A couple of my great experiences with Dad was when he took me to a huge forest fire.  The fire was eating a mountain up.  The racing flames would explode, jumping through trees and across fire breaks.  As night came on, Dad parked his truck away from the fire...told me to stay in the seat or lay down across the seat but not to get out of that truck unless he or one of the CC boys told me to get out.  I watched the fire climb the mountain.  I ate my brown bag CC meal that contained sandwiches, thick balonga, a large slice of cheese, peanut butter and jelly, plus an apple.  I laid down on the seat and slept until morning light.  The wind had calmed down and the CC boys had moved far enough ahead of the fire to cut a break and then set a "backfire" to race into the main fire.  Finally, Dad came back and we went home. One trip that Dad took me on (and I believe Bill also) was when the CC boys released a large group of white-tail deer out on a mountain.  To see them get out the trucks, pause, look around, throw that white tail up and disappear in the trees was a beautiful sight. The trips on the curvaceous roads to Whitesburg, KY.  Of five kids in the car one would turn white, crawl over to get to the window and let it fly!  Dad wasn't much for stopping.  Then another child crawling across and blasting the other side of the car and road.  I believe Janet was the best at this.  She had a lot of practice for getting her head out the window. The time Mother was driving with her beautiful large hat and the windows down (no A/C at that time).  All of a sudden Mother yanks the wheel, grabs her hat and finally gets the car stopped...a large bird was stuck in that beautiful hat! It was quite an honor for anyone to sit in the front seat. At one time convicts in their black and white strip suits worked and maintained the roads.  Each time we came upon a crew, Mother would make us roll the windows up and lock the doors and not say a word.  On occasions when our car would slow to a bare minimum speed the motor would die.  To correct this you had to pull the choke out just a little bit to give it more gas.  Just as we passed the shotgun guard and got into the full work crew the motor hesitated.  Mother said, "Pull the choke out a little"- Janet reached and pulled it out all the way -- flooded the motor and the car stopped right in the middle of the crew - FLOODED! -- There we sit with all eyeballs -- some black and white outfits looking at us.  Boom! Two shotgun guards were on each side of the car.  We waited for several minutes before Mom could get the car started and we were off.  Janet never again was allowed to pull the choke out. On another trip a convict jumped into the side of our car -- bounced off and was lying on the dirt road.  Mother pulled on up to the guard and stopped.  The guard said, "Lady, go ahead.  He has done that before thinking he will get out of work but his act don't work with us." There weren't any mealtimes or eating out when we were on a trip.  Dad would stop at a country store, return with some apples, large box of soda-crackers, cheese, balonga and maybe a couple cans of Vienna sausage.  I thought that was a good take-out dinner.  No, there were no drive-throughs or short-order places.  Your choice was -- take it or leave it! Bill gave me one of my fastest rides.  After one of our famous brother trips, I was scheduled to fly out of Bellingham, Washington.  We got our time messed up for the time of departure.  That morning we were running late.  Bill flat-out put the pedal to the floor.  I knew we were moving fast.  Finally I had courage enough to look at the speedometer - 100 MPH.  I was so scared I didn't look at the speedometer again for the last 20 miles.  But, we made it. Rob has taken me across a mountain from North Carolina to Tennessee -- no road -- taken the sideview mirror off to squeeze between trees.  Also, to N. C. Outer Banks pulling a popup trailer that on one curve swung almost up to my passenger window. The great trip with Bill to Alaska -- brotherly love. (this is another story)