By Chuck Morden – McCreary, Man.
My amazing mother was born in Germany and came to Canada at the age of 12. She learned to read and write English without going to school, married and raised a family of nine. Thankfully she had that many children, because I was the last.
During WWII, she would have been about 50 years old. She had to travel to Winnipeg for some reason or other and planned to catch the Greyhound bus at the highway two miles away. I went along with my dad for the ride.
We got to the highway by horse and buckboard wagon at about two in the afternoon. Waiting and waiting at the highway, no bus came along. We realized we must have come too late.
As we were about ready to turn around and return home, along came a man on a motorcycle. He stopped and asked if he could help. The man believed they could probably catch the bus in Elm Creek, about four miles away. He asked if mother would like a ride that far. I doubt anyone would do this today, but it was a different time back then.
Mother accepted the ride and we didn’t worry too much since she was only going our miles to Elm Creek.
About a week later when mother returned from Winnipeg, the whole story came out. They didn’t catch the bus in Elm Creek or at any other of the small towns on the highway. She had ridden all the way to Winnipeg, some 50 miles, on the back of that motorcycle. We were amazed!
Mother never thought too much about it though. To her, it seemed like it was just another day. And being a thrifty sort, she probably relished the saving of the bus fare.
