January, 1954, marked the third move in the first eight years of my life. This move, however, was the only one that took the family out of Harrison County. From living way back a narrow lane nearly half a mile from the highway, we found ourselves moving into a house situated right on a major thoroughfare. We were now in Bourbon County, half way between Paris and Cynthiana, with U.S. 27, literally fifty feet from our front door. In 1954 that highway was a major north-south route from Michigan to Florida. Yes, I am older than Interstate 75.
Some of my memories about living along that busy highway may seem quaint. We did not have a television set in 1954, so entertainment took simpler forms. While we had no T.V., we did have a front porch, and on Sunday afternoons after church in the summer, we utilized that porch. My maternal grandparents would often be there. Papa Padgett and I would sit in the swing and count all the cars going north. You see, on Friday, all the Kentuckians would come back home, but on Sunday afternoon they would all head to Ohio or Michigan to their new homes where they had found factory jobs.
Our afternoon’s entertainment was always spiced up a bit by the help of the Kentucky State Police. The driveway about seventy-five yards from our drive led back into a pasture field and provided a perfect hiding place for that trooper and his high powered ‘54 Ford cruiser. It was great fun watching those speeders pulled over, police lights flashing, and all in view from our front porch. I believe I was blessed to have grown up in simpler times.
– Terry A. Morrison