Before a 1951 Chevrolet Pickup was a classic antique, it was just an old truck and I had one. It had belonged to my grandfather who had passed away not long before my 13th birthday. We had cattle and all five kids did whatever was needed to help Mom and Dad. As our older brothers and sister went away to college, my younger brother, Doug, and I took up the slack.
Dad was a Vo-Ag teacher and often had to work with his students on their projects and visit with their families and do all the things for farmers in the community that make ag teachers special people. During the late fall and winter, the sun often went down before Dad would make it home so Doug and I would put out hay and range cubes for the cattle while there was still daylight.
On one snowy day, we got home from school knowing that Dad would be late so we loaded a couple of sacks of cubes and several bales of hay into the back of the old pickup to feed the cattle. Doug drove while I broke bales in the back and tossed them over the side of the pickup bed. It was really unavoidable that the pickup slid a little while we were feeding and once Doug took an opportunity to “cut a donut” in the snow.
After the cattle had been fed, I dropped Doug off at the house so that I could go take care of my show steer. Then, with all chores done, I returned to the hillside pasture with the pickup and spent several minutes cutting my own “donuts” in the snow from one end of the pasture to the other. Sure enough, it was pretty late when Dad got home so he did not have an opportunity to check the cattle until early the next morning.