The Girl In The Red Cadillac

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This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

THE AUTHOR

Perhaps Bill's greatest claim to fame is the fact that his grandfather was born in 1840, his grandmother in 1849. Bill's parents were married on December 25, 1909, his father at the age of thirty-three. Bill came along much later, in 1929. When he was but a child, every visit to an uncle or aunt, whoever, usually involved people who were born in the mid to early 1800's. Vivid pictures of dastardly marching Yankees and brave Confederates were painted by eyewitnesses. Tobacco was chewed and wonderful stories of horses which could out run cannon balls, of fog so dense it could be cut into blocks and hauled away in a spring wagon, were told. He learned about such things as singletrees and whippletrees, of greys and roans,horses which could travel miles through pitch darkness and arrive safely in their own barn. Of bashful girls and true love, of honor and independence. His favorite character was dear, beloved Grandmother Annie, who lived to the age of 94. Her face was wrinkled and her back bent, but she never lost the mischievous grin or the twinkle in her eye. She told stories of pre-Civil War dances where she and her sisters pulled their covers up around their necks and pretended to be asleep, then hopped out of bed and snuck out to dance the night away. Grandmother was in the habit of riding sidesaddle over steep mountain ridges to visit kith and kin, for the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.

Little Bill listened and remembered. For him, the late 1800s and early 1900s are alive and real.

Bill retired from doing nothing much, in 1990 and thereafter devoted his time to weaving stories of those gone but not forgotten days.

Dedication... I would like to dedicate this book, with many thanks, to the splinter group of the Shenandoah Valley Writers Guild, Miss Sheila Silman, and my wife, Nancy, for all their invaluable help and encouragement.

1907 - 1919 Joyce and Joleen, two young identical twin girls, live a very restricted life in a small town. In order to break up a budding romance between Joyce and her cousin, her parents send her to live with her aunt in rural Ohio. Joyce rebels and obtains a job as a reporter for a small local newspaper. She really likes the paper's owner, although he is forty-two years her senior and Jewish. When he realizes the young woman is romantically attracted to him, the elderly gentleman attempts to explain why any thought of a romantic relationship between them is out of the question. She misunderstands his motives and promptly seduces him. The poor old fellow is frantic with guilt and shame. Once more he attempts to explain, she once again misunderstands and they wind up in bed. All is lost! Nothing to do now but marry the girl. Against all logic, the marriage is a happy one. Hubby, Ira, buys little wife a new Cadillac, the first automobile to have an electric self-starter. Joyce proves to be a real speed demon, roaring over rutted roads at up to forty miles per hour, with her long red hair streaming out behind her. Chickens and wayward cows, beware! Joyce is now editor-in-chief and looking for a hook to increase circulation of her paper. She has it! Automobile racing! Who ever heard of a woman race-car driver? Surely, this will sell papers! No man will enter a race in which a woman is entered, so hubby puts up the purse and, through an oversight, forgets to mention there is a woman driver in the pack. Joyce does very well and comes in second. Papers begin selling like hot-cakes. It is necessary to knock out the wall of the pressroom and install more presses. Joyce is a celebrity, although not particularly well liked by the chauvinistic male public. Automobile manufactures, realizing the promotional value of their cars doing well in racing, enter the picture. The Cadillac company jacks Joyce's little roadster up and puts a V-eight engine in it. Unfortunately, Packard and Hudson get the same idea at the same time, and a real cross-country race is on. Meanwhile, Joyce's sister, still living at home, goes for a walk on a rainy Sunday. She comes home six months later, richly dressed and with a great deal Úof money in her purse, but jilted and pregnant. She is instantly thrown out of her parent's home and goes to live with an aunt in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Joyce's husband and little girl die in the influenza epidemic of 1918. The twins, each with a young son to raise, reunite and attempt to put their lives back together. The book is rich in period information, tall stories, humor and human emotion. Joyce and Joleen, truly remarkable women. Perhaps a bit more than a little avant garde for the times, but never dull.

Biography Vernon "Bill" Lichliter Perhaps Bill's greatest claim to fame is the fact that his grandfather was born in 1840, his grandmother in 1849. Bill's parents were married on December 25, 1909, his father at the age of thirty-three. Bill came along much later, in 1929. When he was but a child, every visit to an uncle or aunt, whoever, usually involved people who were born in the mid to early 1800's. Vivid pictures of dastardly marching Yankees and brave Confederates were painted by eye-witnesses. Tobacco was chewed and wonderful stories of horses which could out run cannon balls, of fog so dense it could be cut into blocks and hauled away in a spring wagon, were told. He learned about such things as singletrees and whippletrees, of greys and roans, horses which could travel miles through pitch darkness and arrive safely in their own barn. Of bashful girls and true love, of honor and independence. His favorite character was dear, beloved Grandmother Annie, who lived to the age of 94. Her face was wrinkled and her back bent, but she never lost the mischievous grin or the twinkle in her eye. She told stories of pre-Civil War dances where she and her sisters pulled their covers up around their necks and pretended to be asleep, then hopped out of bed and snuck out to dance the night away. Grandmother was in the habit of riding side-saddle over steep mountain ridges to visit kith and kin, for the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Little Bill listened and remembered. For him, the late 1800s and early 1900s are alive and real. Bill retired from doing nothing much, in 1990 and thereafter devoted his time to weaving stories of those gone but not forgotten days.

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