Conflict between Earl and me was inevitable. I realized that he was not just trying to shove me around—not trying to be bossy just to see if he could be. Rather he was trying to do what he thought was best for the company. But he didn't always know what was best for the company. Progress had gotten way out ahead of Earl and he had not realized it. What was good for Earl and the truck line to Stamford was not necessarily good for me and the truck line to Abilene.
So, one day I thought it was time to disobey Earl and make some decisions of my own. I fought back. I was tired of listening to him and doing all the things his way. But he didn't think it was time for me to be weaned as yet, so he fought back also.
We didn't take time to put the boxing gloves on; we just went to slugging, bare fisted. I wasn't mad at him, just tired of taking orders which didn't always fit the occasion. However, I was glad he remembered Papa's old rule of not hitting each other in the face. That could have hurt; noses bleed and teeth cost money. Our chests took a terrible beating—at least mine did. I'll admit he hurt me, and I tried to hurt him. It was not that I really wanted to hurt him, I just wanted him to get the idea that I was driving my truck and he was driving his. He was too small to drive both of them.
Finally I said, "Boy, I'm tired and sore. How about you?"
He said, "Naw, I'm not tired."
I told him, "You sure jarred me. Did I hurt you?"
Again he said, "No, I'm not hurt nor tired."
Anyway, we stopped hitting each other, We rested awhile, got us a drink of water, and went on with the business of getting our trucks and cargo ready to roll. All this took place without a cross word from either of us—and without a witness. And with no witness, I can tell it like I want to; it's my word against his.
About this time, Papa needed a good used tire for his Hupmobile. Earl was unable to find a suitable one in Stamford, so I was asked to pick up one in Abilene. And Earl warned, "Be sure you don't get a Goodrich."
Well, I looked all over Abilene and the only tire I found that I would consider buying was a Goodrich—a half inch oversize. It only cost $4.50, so I bought it. Of course I didn't buy a Goodrich just to bug Earl, but when I showed up in Hamlin with it, you would have thought I had set fire to another keg of powder—with Earl sitting on it. He was sure the tire would break and blow out. Besides, he had told me not to get that brand.