I wrote this in 2010, and thought I’d share it with you all .
454
I can tell you to the day to the time to the year why 454 is such a significant part of my life. It brings me to a moment in time where my father and I enjoyed a common interest and a love for machines, horse power, and we got along.
My father and I didn’t have a lot in common when I was younger. I mean we watched some football a little bit of racing and that was it. He was from the old school and I wanted no part of it. Stubborn should have been his name, to this day he still holds that line. Though as miserable as his moods can be, he was always there for me, no matter what. As I write more and more I recover more memories of my father, good memories. Dad always made time for us, whether it be for practicing for baseball, taking us swimming at Metcalf pond, keeping us outdoors with fishing and hunting, playing with us or making us warm chocolate pudding on random nights. My father was the ONLY one that wrote to me once a week when I was sent away to Job Corps for 2 years at 16, but, that’s another story all together.
When I was living with my mom, dad would try and keep me involved in his life and keep me out of my mother’s hair for her sake. He always brought me to the Johnson Mud Boggs (JMB). This truly was the one thing I enjoyed doing with my father. There were no stupid questions, there was no stress, and we had a good time. The very humble beginnings of the JMB were amazing. Just a bunch of good ole boys and girls hanging around the mud pit in the middle of a corn field watching the competitors try there best to trudge their way through the 150ft pit of quagmire. There were some real intense moments of watching these trucks claw their way through the mud. Very few made it through, an occasional big tired high horse powered truck would make it through. This was an event one should truly witness first hand, up close and personal.
So the ensuing years at JMB changed, I can remember the first year they put up the fence. Just a bunch of telephone posts sticking up out of the ground about 4ft. This was our new place to watch the trucks. We were now about 20-25 yards from the actual mud pit up on a bank. This year there were some other changes as well. The truck-pits area where the competitors conveyed was across the mud pit parallel to the bank we sat on. It was a wall of RVs and tents. You really couldn’t see any of the trucks like you used to. The one thing that didn’t change was the mud pit. The pit was still an unruly slop pile for these trucks. We watched the competitors go as hard and as fast as they could. Try as they might they couldn’t make it through the pit. One by one they got the chain attached to the bulldozer and dragged out. It was getting a little stale; it looked like no truck was able to claw there way through the big mud hole. Some made valiant efforts with some high-speed attacks and earth throwing tires.
I hear a mumbling over the crowd as the announcer started talking over the loud speakers excitedly. My father leans over to me, slaps my head playfully as he was sitting behind me and says, “Get ready.” “Ok.” I replied goofily. I was not really paying attention, I do that a lot according to my father. The announcer was saying some kind of gibberish over the loud speakers, and then I heard it. WHOOM! Rumble, rumble, rumble, WHOOM! Echoed through the air of the field we all sat in. My eyes grew wide with curiosity. I’ve heard some loud trucks, but never like this. “What is that?” I ask excitedly to my father. He replies with a cool smirk, “You’ll see.” WHOOM! Rumble, rumble, rumble, WHOOM! Rumble, rumble, rumble, as it coasted through the pit area. I couldn’t see it, I could only hear it and see the dust clouds it caused as it drove through the pits. WHOOM! Rumble, rumble, rumble. My anticipation level was rising with every sound of that engine. WHOOM! Rumble, rumble, rumble. I was shaking now I was so excited, I couldn’t wait to see that truck, and the excitement was almost too much for me. I was 16 and I never got goose bumps and chills like this. What is it?! I knew my father was getting excited as he slapped me on the back with a hoot. WHOOM! WHOOM! WHOOM! Around the corner she came, WHOOM! As she announced her presence, the crowd responded with a thundering howl! This truck was beautiful, Candy Apple Red 32’ Ford Deuce Coupe body, chrome pipes coming off the side of the engine, exhaust flying out of the pipes, WHOOM! She stated with authority. I have never seen anything like it before, it looked like a drag racer with paddle tires. The rig affectionately named “Deuces Wild” came to the staging line, WHOOM!! WHOOM!! You could not hear the announcer over the noise of this truck and the screaming from the crowd. My fathers screaming at me, “Don’t blink Trevor, Don’t blink!” “Why?” I said to myself? I wasn’t going to blink either way. WHOOM! WHOOM! Rumble, rumble, rumble, as she cleaned out the carburetor. The flag man called her up to the line, WHOOM! WHOOM! Rumble, rumble, rumble. She was set and ready to go. What was this truck going to do, it’s going to be bad ass either way! The flag goes up, and like slow motion in a movie he dropped the flag.
I honestly can’t put into perfect words as to what happened next. That truck took off like a rocket! WHOOOOOOMMMMMMM! WHOOM! Rumble, rumble, rumble rumble, rumble, rumble, WHOOM!! The pass was done!? Deuces Wild was through to the other side in seconds. My first words were “HOLY SHIT!” (Which I’m not sure my father heard.) As the whole crowd went ballistic! I looked at my father with disbelief on my face and that fool was on the ground laughing his ass off. “That was amazing!” I screamed over the crowd at him. He just shook his head in agreement while laughing. Rumble, rumble, rumble as Deuces Wild went back to the pit with her head held high. Not a spot of mud was on that truck, just the rear tires, the front ones were not even on the ground. As the crowd settled back down into a low roar the announcer came over the big speaker and said, “Did you see that? What just happened?” The announcer went on to tell us that Deuces Wild just set a new world record with that run. 3.2 seconds in 150ft of mud. Everyone screamed at her success in Vermont. We had claim to the title for awhile anyway. I return my attention to my father, he had a big ole grin on his face and I say to him, “What was that?” He replied with a glisten in his eyes, “That was a 454 big block with some serious motivation.” I just shook my head with uncertainty as to what a 454 big block was. He explained to me that it’s one of the biggest Chevy engines ever made and they were made to haul ass. I smiled at that, I told him someday I will have a 454 in my Chevy.
I guess on that day I looked up to my dad in a new way. Like a friend I guess, we were able to just talk and there was no awkwardness. The rest of the day he explained to me about all these new types of mud trucks that were there. He brought me down to the pits and we got to see some of the big trucks. Took some pictures and met some of the drivers. It was an amazing time. One I will always remember. The year they cancelled the JMB broke my heart on so many levels. That great bonding experience I had every summer with my dad was gone. All the conversations, friendship and goofing off we did were going to suffer greatly. I knew what was going to happen next. We would grow apart, I would become disinterested in spending time with him or any family member for that matter and want to spend more time with my friends. Now as an adult, I find myself reliving all the good times I had with my dad through writing. I will sit hear and type while I’m crying, laughing or getting mad and all the nice emotional releases that come with writing. This will be the first time I will let any of my family members read anything I write. It’s a start and maybe I will open up a little more and let some more family in.
In closing I want to thank you dad, Calvin (Butch) Norris Rushford for giving me life and freedom. You may have had a hard time with me growing up, you taught me valuable lessons that I use for my kids today that I didn’t see until I got older. You were firm and impossible at times, we may not have seen eye to eye, ever, but you are my father and I love you.
Ps Thanks for all the great times in the mud, be it in Johnson, Essex, hunting or trips in your old Jeeps. My heart lies in off-roading because of you. Love ya dad.
Vermont Scale RC 