Plowing cornfields with the LTD

“The radiator is wrapped in cornstalks,” Uncle said. He dropped to his knees in the driveway to better inspect his brand new LTD’s undercarriage.
Dad popped the LTD’s hood and raised his voice. “What’s all this?”
Uncle stood and they both surveyed the mess: cornstalks wedged tightly into every crevice of the car’s engine compartment.
“YOU KIDS NEED TO COME OUTSIDE,” Dad yelled.
“I ain’t goin’,” my cousin, Joy, said. She continued to sip her coffee.
“They figured out you plowed Mayfield’s cornfield with your dad’s new car,” my sister added helpfully.
“You didn’t tell me that field was comin’ up,” Joy said.
“You were going too fast.” I threw in my two cents.
Mom, Aunt and Grandmother were busy in the kitchen. Mom prepared a turkey for roasting. Aunt mixed cornbread, which would become stuffing. Grandmother rolled dough. If they did hear the commotion outside, they weren’t interested in anything unrelated to their feast preparations.
“We’re gonna get in big trouble,” my sister grumbled.
Joy kept sipping her coffee.
I slipped on my jacket and joined Uncle and Dad, who were still prying corn stalks from the LTD.
“Where’d you kids find these?” Dad asked. He was suppressing laughter. Uncle's new car looked like it had tractor duty.
“This car is only two weeks old.” Uncle's tone seemed strained, and his expression wasn’t a happy one.
I didn’t offer any explanations, but did join in, assisting with untangling stalks. It took almost an hour before we had all traces of the corn field removed from the LTD. I will never forget Uncle's despair and Dad’s efforts not to bust into loud laughter.
We were all spending Thanksgiving on the farm. My aunt and uncle, and my cousin, had driven out the evening before. Joy was 18. My sister was 16. I was 14.
All these years later, I still recall that as one of our best Thanksgivings. Perhaps it was made so because it was also our final family holiday before people splintered off into their own lives. Joy, my sister, and I were cousins who grew up as the best of friends. Joy had graduated high school, and found her first job working at Sears; but that evening we were still the triplet cousins. Joy borrowed her dad’s new car, and the three of us primped ourselves with Joy’s makeup collection until we resembled an advertisement for Revlon cosmetics. Giggling and full of ourselves, we jumped into the LTD and headed for Bolivar. Winter arrived early that year and Joy turned the volume up on both the heater and the LTD’s new 8-track stereo. Words spilled off the tracks: “Ready or not here I come, gee that used to be so fun ... apple, peaches, pumpkin pie, you were young and so was I ...” and “Keep the ball rollin’, keep the ball rollin’ ... on your mark get set ... keep the ball rollin’ right into your heart ...” tunes from Jay & The Techniques. We played those tracks over and over, as loud as we could stand the volume. Joy drove that LTD through those back country roads, out to Highway 18, into Bolivar. We rounded Joe’s drive-in half a dozen times. Eventually a fellow who’d recently returned from his tour in Vietnam showed up. Richard. He had a crush on me, and always teased me mercilessly. He talked me into going for a ride. Joy wasn’t happy, my sister just shrugged. I jumped into Richard’s muscle car and we raced off to explore our interests in each other. We were late returning to Joe’s drive-in. By the time we found the LTD cruising Bolivar, it was well past curfew. Joy was furious. She said I was too young to be sneaking off with some smart-ass soldier boy. Joy was probably the best versed cursor I ever knew. She had words that would shock a sailor ... and when she ran out of words, she just made some more up (a family tradition which always impressed the heck out of me). The more she cursed, the madder she got, until the LTD had left road mode and was flying low through the country roads en route back to the family farm. And that’s when it happened. We flew into a curve before Joy realized we were in a curve. She tore that new LTD out across a cornfield full of dry stalks. Instead of panicking, Joy’s curse vocabulary went ballistic, and she leaned on the accelerator like we could literally fly the car back to the highway. Eventually we did. A few dozen bushels of corn stalks were so deeply embedded under and up into the LTD, we didn’t even bother thinking about them. Joy killed the headlights as we approached the farm, and she let the LTD roll to a quiet stop in the yard. The three of us climbed out of Uncle's new car and never looked back. We removed our shoes and slipped into the basement, then tiptoed up the stairs, into the house. Everyone was sound asleep. We were home free.
Until that next morning when Uncle discovered his new LTD had plowed a corn field.