19. The Fossil Hunt ... THE FARM EAST OF PINE VILLAGE

A favorite family activity was fossil hunting. Joe, Ida, Charles, and Robert once visited the historic railroad cut in Madison, Indiana, and brought back enough horn coral and brachiopods to weight the car down on its springs. From Pine Village to Madison and back in a day meant a long time on the road. Joe never could stay overnight because he had to feed his livestock and would not ask a neighbor to help.

One morning, Ida said, “Let’s go to southeast Indiana to find fossils,” and Joe agreed. A few days later, the family piled into the Pontiac Bonneville and drove and drove. Joe took State Route 52 through Rushville to Brookville, where they ate their picnic lunch before searching for fossils along the Whitewater River to the west of town. Finding little to keep them interested, Joe drove farther south and took State Route 1 along a creek that looked promising. Joe pulled onto a short stretch of country road, then onto what was little more than an abandoned farm lane that crossed a tiny bridge.

“Let’s hurry before it rains,” Ida said. The sky had become cloudy. Gradually, the daylight dimmed beneath the heavy cloud cover. Joe, Ida, Charles, and Robert fanned out along the creek. The trilobites that they had hoped to find remained elusive.

Suddenly, raindrops began pelting the creek.

“I guess we’re going to be rained out,” Ida said, as everyone headed for the car. Robert had to sit in the rear seat—with Ida’s promise that he could switch to the front seat in Brookville.

The mischievous storm quickly developed into a steady downpour.

“Joe, we need to get back to the highway as soon as we can,” Ida said. “When I was growing up along the Ohio River, there were people that got caught in flash floods along creeks like this.”

“I don’t think there’s any need to worry,” Joe said. He put the car in gear and steered it toward the low bridge he had crossed to reach a level place to park along the creek. In just that short a time, a raging channel of yellow clay and water was surging under the bridge and, at both ends of the bridge, had already crossed the driveway.

Joe took his foot off the throttle.

“Oh, Joe! Don’t stop now,” Ida warned, with a note of fear in her voice.

“I don’t think we should drive through water that deep and fast,” Joe said.

“But don’t you see that the water is going to cover everything where we are? We have to get to the other side of that bridge!” Ida said, her panic escalating.

Reluctantly, Joe inched the Pontiac forward into the current at the near end of the little bridge. Robert and Charles peered through the windows at the seething stream surrounding the car.

“Hurry, Joe!” Ida said, tensely. She put her hand on the dashboard as if she were encouraging a horse to remain calm while attempting a dangerous feat.

The car gained the bridge, but as much water was crossing the other end as the Pontiac had already cleared. Leaving the bridge behind, the car nosed back into the turbulent yellow stream.

Ida began patting the dashboard nervously.

Eventually, the Pontiac climbed out of the rushing water and turned onto the country road.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“I told you there was nothing to worry about,” Joe said.

“Oh, you know you were scared back there!” Ida exclaimed.

“With a car this heavy, we weren’t going to be swept away,” Joe continued.

“Why, I could feel the car rocking from the water!” Ida said, staring at Joe. “We nearly became one of those families that you read about in the newspapers: the ones carried off by a flood.”

“We weren’t close to being ‘carried off by a flood,’” Joe persisted.

“You grew up where everything is flat,” Ida retorted. “Maybe I know a thing or two about hilly country that you don’t know.”

Joe reached over and patted Ida’s wrist. “I’m just teasing,” he said. “I think we were in some danger there. Had we waited a few more minutes, we might not have been able to drive out.”

“That’s right,” Ida said, barely placated.

At Brookville, Joe pulled over, so that Robert could trade places with Ida. Robert was already experiencing motion sickness, but it slowly abated on the way to Rushville.

Throughout the return trip, the rain fell in torrents. The drive to the Whitewater River was the family’s last fossil hunt.