RICKY ADAMS

Currently, the nation still awaits complete results from various cases of rich, over-zealous parents of somewhat underachieving young’uns wanting to attend Yale, Stanford, USC and other prestigious educational fonts given to bribery to avoid having disappointed children attending lower-tier colleges and universities.

Wonder if any of these parents considered Dixie State University (DSU)?

Well, likely not, since anything with “Dixie” in it is an insensitive insult to minorities of every ilk made by Southern peckerwoods trapped in the 19th Century.

More on DSU shortly.

Here we are in the throes of the electronic age of instant fame, mocking photos, fake news, sheer panic, plus videos and network TV schedules steeped in “reality” programs.

Dealing with modern society’s seemingly insatiable itch to find evil in all that’s good calls for a double dose of castor oil, hopefully, that’ll cure a pain just below the human Acnestis.

Many a baby boomer sat glued to console TVs watching the “Twilight Zone,” knowing full well none of the outlandish stories Rod Serling saw fit to tell were “reality.”

In our day, many Alabama young’uns collected empty Golden Flake bags, saving up to win bikes on WSFA on Saturday mornings as a beginning to plying our way through life.

A brightly-painted English racer, like the one Larry Howell drove, could widen scavenging for returnable soft drink bottles beyond neighborhood streets to raise enough money to send off for a Charles Atlas Body Building System to avoid being a 97-pound weakling.

Being an Alabama male baby boomer was a full-time job and being strong was almost necessary, in major parts of our lives.

Like driving cars with no power steering, power brakes or air conditioning, especially on hotter’n Satan’s kitchen days and nights when some Enterprise guys would ride around with windows rolled up, trying to fool other folks into thinking their cars were air conditioned.

That wasn’t a trick used on dates in the days when sweet thangs could slide all the way across the front seat to nestle with their pimply Romeos.

Not having a/c wasn’t as cool, no pun intended, as steering wheel knobs with nekkid women on ’em, something 10-to-2 drivers from Alabama counties whose county designations added up seven, never realized.

Lucky guys in the 1960s drove their own cars to school.

Pickups were still work trucks when the first three 1966 Dodge D-100 models, priced some $300 more than the ’65’s, arrived at Daddy’s City Auto Sales in Enterprise on a day Dick Adams had gone to a car sale in Pell City.

When he got back, Daddy came to the new vehicle side of the lot where your scribe was washing everything that rolled, to inspect the three trucks.

Daddy immediately went ballistic, telling partner Wayne Whitehead not to order another truck!

 “Nobody in his right mind’ll pay $1,800 for a work truck!” Daddy explained, and he wasn’t whistlin’ “Dixie.” 

Oh, about Dixie State U. (Trailblazers), anyone slobbering at the mouth about DSU and/or its athletics, should contact: Pres. Richard Biff Williams, Dixie State University, St. George, Utah 84738.

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