Bucks boys were as different as night and day personality wise. Jerry, the youngest, tended to be quite unless you knew him. He was really a thinker and tended to keep his own council pretty much.

Hubert was the jolly and happy type. He was always up to something or the other. I don't recall ever seeing him lose his temper.

Charles was very smart and gifted with the ability to grasp an idea or principle and turn it in to a working object. If Charles needed something he'd just build it out of what was on hand. Then to see the thing actually work would "blow me away".

All three of these boys were outright farm kids. Honest, hardworking and independent. All of us were still just kids at heart.

Saturday was go to town day. Nobody went every day like we do now. For some reason Buck decided to leave his boys and me at home and take aunt Nell instead. He gave us some work to do and told us he'd be back around noon. He also told us we'd better stay out of trouble. Not an unreasonable request if you valued the skin on you behind.

Turns out that Jerry had wanted to go with his folks and my being there had prevented that from happening or so he thought. He decided to "fix" me by getting me in some trouble. He and the other boys led me and my brother down to the barn lot. Jerry said "I dare you to try and ride that little bull" that's "Staked out" next to the barn. Before I could make up my mind, my kid brother jumped on that little bull and off they went. Lowell held on for dear life and the little bull went crazy. When Lowell finally got loose he told Jerry it was his turn. Somehow the tables had turned on Jerry.

Thus we enter the world of Murphy's law and other little wrinkles that help our development into adulthood. Hubert was all for Jerry "bellying up". Charles is more sensible and warns of what might happen. Jerry on the other hand had "cast the die". He didn't have much choice.

Old Jerry runs and jumps on that yearlings back and lets out a big holler. The bull's-eyes got big as saucers. You have never seen anything quite like what followed. The ride was short and violent. The bull runs toward the center of the lot and then does a one eighty degree turn and heads the other way. Uncle Buck had driven a Ford model "A" rear axle into the ground. He was using it to anchor down the tether line for the bull. The bull, in his haste to be somewhere else, manages to jerk the axle out of the ground. It becomes an airborne missile of sorts. Want to guess where it landed? Yep, right on old Jerry's head. Knocked him out cold. Bled pretty good too.

Why didn't we listen to uncle Bucks warning?? Old Murphy kicked our "butts" that day and so did uncle Buck. No formalities at his house. There was enough "whop-ass" to go around.