Big Orange
Remember when fresh milk and bread were delivered straight to your house by a real person in a large, branded truck? This custom of making that personal delivery began long before cars and trucks were invented by way of the horse and buggy. And, up until the 50s and early 60s that custom continued. As so many ways of doing business rapidly changed during the middle of the 20th century, the personal delivery of goods became a thing of that past. With the transition to larger and well-stocked grocery stores, the demise of the old bread truck was inevitable.
But then there was Big Orange. And its owner. And a group of teenagers who just wanted to have fun.
We were 16 or 17 at the time. It was 1966-67, and Evansville was an average sized, Midwest town, with the usual activities and adventures for teens. Not exactly a thriving metropolis, but rather a quainter town with good middle-class values.
Football games, basketball games, the Surf Club on Green River Road, McDonalds, the Armory on Sunday night for dancing, the drive-in movies. We would often meet in these locations and spend the night cheering, dancing, talking, eating, making out and just being average teens. Parents dropped us off at our intended destination. Or a girlfriend or boyfriend with a driver’s license would pick us up and serve as the group’s driver for the night. There were never more than four or five of us in a car. No SUVs in those days and no one wanted to drive their parents’ station wagon. Just ask Dorothy. No thanks, L.A. and Marjorie, Dorothy liked to drive her green MG-only one other passenger allowed.
But then there was Big Orange. Big Orange was a retired bread truck owned and operated by our friend Dwight. Tall and impressive with an engaging smile and a curly top, we put our trust in him as he guided us through our years of mischievous fun.
And there were always more than four or five of us.
In that truck there was always Bonnie, who later married Dwight, and Don and Martha; Jimmy and Dorothy; Me, of course; Jack, David, Jenny and John; Mike; Rosie, too; Becky, Sally, Robert, Ron, Jon and Mary Jo-I’m sure; and so many more that I can’t even begin to remember everyone who shared in our adventures.
We would meet up someplace where we could leave our cars-maybe the high school parking lot, or the Frisch’s Big Boy, or another designated spot. Dwight would pick us up and off we would go. I don’t recall seat belts, and I don’t remember if there were even any seats, but there might have been these straps to hold onto while riding. Anyone remember?
Off to the cemeteries we would go to round up the spirits, and to perhaps drink a few underage spirits as well. Yes, there was drinking, and smoking. I for one confess to that “inappropriate behavior.” There were also loads of mischievous fun. Rolling houses with toilet paper was very popular back then. Imagine what you could accomplish in a shorter period of time with 10 people doing the deed, rather than two or three. Safely in and out, and quickly-that was the goal. Rolling a house was not necessarily done for spite or revenge. Sometimes we did it to just say “We like you! Ha! Ha!”
The egging episodes were a little different. Generally reserved for Halloween, of course. We had all outgrown trick or treating, so going out on Halloween night to egg “your friends” was a whole different level of mischievous fun. I do remember one Halloween when the boys were in Big Orange and some of the girls were in Dorothy’s parents’ station wagon. We certainly wouldn’t go out egging in the MG. Needless to say, the boys slaughtered us with the eggs. We were outmatched and outrun, and we had to return an odiferous, rotten, egg smelling station wagon back to L.A and Marjorie. They were not happy.
Riding in Big Orange wasn’t all about mischief though. It was about being with friends laughing, sharing memories, and spending time together. We were never stopped (or caught) by the police for breaking any laws, we kept curfew, and Dwight safely returned us home to our parents.
I hadn’t seen Dwight in many years. Probably not since the last reunion in 2000. He married his high school sweetheart; Bonnie and they remained in Evansville, later Newburgh, and raised their family. I left Evansville for college and life in the big city. He passed away this week, and as I heard the news from old friends across the country, I couldn’t help remembering what fun we had in that big orange bread truck, and how many of us hold those memories in our hearts.
When I searched for his obituary online and saw the picture accompanying the many kind words describing his life, I was reminded of that tall, impressive boy of 16 with the curly top and the engaging smile. Time only made both more special. I hope that he is resting in peace, and his family is comforted by the many great memories he gave to all who knew him then and throughout his life.
In Memory of Dwight Rounder
February 1, 1950 to March 14, 2021
As remembered by Sassy Strange