A part of the road between Roby and Rotan was graveled, and along the graveled part were two rounding curves which were quite an improvement over the sharp turns so common in those days. You could sail right on around the curves without slowing down much, since we didn't get up an awful lot of speed any time, even on straight roads. One day a fellow who was riding with Dode bet him he couldn't go around both curves and not get under 25 miles an hour. The bet was on--perhaps a dime or maybe a cold drink. He made it around the first curve okay, but the gravel was heavier on the second curve and the truck lost its footing, skidded, and turned over. It just lay over on its side and didn't hurt anything except maybe Dode's pride, and of course he lost his bet. When Papa was just getting into the trucking business, he had two trucks, and one of them was a Maxwell. I think he bought out a truck line from somebody and inherited the old truck, or maybe the man gave it to him. I can't really believe Papa bought it. If he did, anything he gave for it was too much. It didn't have enough power to pull the hat off your head without getting a run on it. Anyway, one time Papa had it loaded with something and was hauling it to somewhere. Now, on this road to somewhere there was a hill he was supposed to go up. But the old Maxwell just couldn't make it up; it went as far as it could and stopped. That was when Papa learned that the brakes would hold better going forward than backward. Going backward the brakes were as weak as the motor. They simply wouldn't hold it. The brakes and the gears together wouldn't hold the Maxwell and the load. The truck, the load, and the driver all went slowly backward down the hill. Now to keep from backing off a bluff on one side of the road, Papa steered the truck toward the mountain on the other side. When it backed up on the side of the mountain a way, it leaned so much it turned over and dumped the load right in the middle of the road. As I said, the old Maxwell was not powerful. When you got it loaded, it would take a mile of straight level road for it to get up to 25 miles an hour. So when we got up a little speed we sure hated to have to slow down for anything. So it was one day with Joel or Albert driving and I was co-pilot. I really believe it was Joel driving because there was a time when Albert was too little to drive, not for long, mind you, but for awhile.