8BHB.  Donald Max Winchester was born in Dorr, Allegan County, Michigan, on Tuesday, January 17, 1928, and died in Kaufman, Texas, on February 3, 2004. Norma Dee Vaden was born in Blackwell, Oklahoma, on Friday, February 22, 1929, and died in Kaufman on February 5, 2004. They were married in Dallas, Texas, on Saturday, April 17, 1948. She took the name Norma Dee Winchester. He is the son of Calvin Walter and Florence (Barber) Winchester. She is the daughter of Carl and Nora (Beck) Vaden. They had two children:

Don and his brothers were all born on the Winchester farm near Dorr. As a young man, Don liked to hang around the little airport in Allegan County. One blustery winter day, a friend encouraged Don to go with him to Texas where a friend could find them some work—and it was warm. They left on the spur of the moment and Don never moved back, much to his parents' consternation.

"I came to Texas to find work in aviation. This was my first choice and what I was trained in. However, because of the returning servicemen after the war, there were few openings and not much demand for people of my skill and experience. I was forced by necessity to change my line of work and took a job as a sheet metal apprentice. The pay was 75 cents an hour. I have spent my entire career associated with the sheet metal field."

"My fun things were fishing, following my favorite sports teams: the Detroit Tigers and Dallas Cowboys. Oh yes, to take an occasional trip with the family."

In September, 2001, Don wrote:

The Winchester Bros., Dad, Uncle Orra and Uncle Bert bought and sold livestock, farm machinery, real estate and anything else for a potential profit.

One of their endeavors was buying hay in the summer when it was cheap. This enabled us to feed our stock in the barn during the winter and sell the surplus for a profit. By word of mouth at stock sales, etc., they had no trouble buying all the hay needed to satisfy these needs.

There was one catch: We had to cut and haul it, and sometimes after we filled our barn, we would rent an empty barn somewhere and store hay there, too.

To do this, we would move our equipment; mower, rake, and loader (baler for bales) to the hay field. For hauling, we removed the stock rack from our International truck and to increase the capacity, we bolted down plank extensions that extended back about 4 feet behind the bed.

In the summer of 1944, when I was only 16, one of my jobs was driving this truck to and from the barn to the hay fields. Dad and Uncle Orra also traveled back and forth in another vehicle.

On one of these trips to get a load of hay in '44, I traveled east through Dorr, crossed the Byron Center road(4-Corners?) and headed east towards 31(now 131). Soon after leaving Dorr, there was a very long and steep incline or hill to climb. On each side of the road, (now #142) was a long and very steep and sizable drop to the ground below. I got nearly to the top of this hill and of all things, I ran out of gas. I remember getting out of the truck, looked back down the hill towards Dorr and saw the Sunoco station on the NW quadrant at the 4-Corners intersection. I got the bright idea that if I put the truck in neutral and pick up enough speed, I could coast back down, and maybe nearly to the station. How lucky could I be? And how wrong I was!

I got back in the cab, put the truck in neutral and started to gain speed going backwards. I didn't get very far before I realized I was over-steering and the truck started sash-shaying and became uncontrollable. By then, the truck was going too fast to stop by braking. It went into a spin and came to a very sudden stop, cross wise on the 2 lane blacktop road. I got out and surveyed the situation. The rear wheels were just inches from going over the embankment and the long drop to the ground below, which certainly would have wrecked the truck and quite possibly injury to myself.

Very soon (2 or 3 minutes) after this frightening experience, Dad and Uncle Orra drove up. They asked me what happened and after I told them, Uncle Orra said that because of "toe-in", it was impossible to steer any car going backwards. This of course was new news to me, but it makes perfect logical sense. A car with "toe-in" going backwards would be the same as a car with "toe-out" going forwards. It would have no directional stability and be virtually uncontrollable.

Dad and Uncle Orra were not upset with me at all, and after they got some gas for me, I was soon on my way to the hay field.

To this day when I hear the term "toe-in", I remember the day 57 years ago when Uncle Orra explained it to me.

Don and Norma were called "Pepaw" and "Memaw" by their grandchildren. They both died at home within two days of each other.

• Donald Winchester; Feb., 2000; Sep., 2001