Author Randolph R Camp reflecting on his childhood in Spotsylvania County, Virginia
Never forget where you come from. I certainly won't. Mostly due to the Air Force, I have traveled all over the world. And I even been to Nine Mile, Jamaica (Bob Marley's birthplace). But the place that stays deep within me no matter what is Spotsylvania County, Virginia. This is the place that helped shape me and made me into the person I am today. Ever since I was a little boy, I was always curious about everything. If you grew up anywhere near Fredericksburg or Spotsylvania County, you definitely would've traveled Plank Road. Well, I remember thinking as a kid 'what an odd name for a road.' That curiosity got me digging and turned me into a little research detective. What I learned was that years ago during the days of horse and buggies, they would lay down wooden planks along the dirt road so that the wheels (of the buggies) wouldn't get stuck in the wet mud, especially on the rainy days. Plank Road isn't the only road that sticks out in my mind. The old State Road 715 will be forever engrained in my memory. Long before Camp Town Road was nicely paved, it was a dirt-gravel road lined with lots of honeysuckle bush. This was the old State Road 715, and this is where this little country boy first began to notice things, good and bad.
Our house was directly across the road from the Wolfrey family. Although I already had four brothers, it's like I had three more brothers back then because John and Ronald Wolfrey, along with Ronnie Wayne Curtis, were sort of like our brothers too. Us Camp boys didn't have fancy bikes or any expensive toys when we were coming up but both John and Ronald Wolfrey gladly shared whatever nice stuff they had with us Camp boys. My greatest thrill one day was when John and Ronald let us ride their fancy 3-horsepower minibike up and down the long gravel road. I'll never forget that day! That was so much fun!
At the far end of the road, Ronnie Wayne lived in a small house with his mother. Ronnie Wayne was like our brother too because he was always looking out for all of us. As a kid I was fascinated with lightning bugs, and I would stay outside sometimes pretty late at night just watching them light up the night sky outside our house. I don't know why I remember Ronnie Wayne's distinctive words and voice when he would be walking by and catch me outside late at night but he would say (in a parental tone) "kinda late for you to be outside, ain't it?" Yep, that was code for 'boy, you betta get yo' butt back inside the house.' By the way, I'm an old man now and I'm still fascinated with lightning bugs (or as some like to call them 'fireflies'). In my book from 2022, Monica A Short Story Collection, the short story 'Heaven' have lightning bugs as central characters.
As an adult, I'd visited Spotsylvania County and traveled down Camp Town Road a few times over the years, and about halfway down the road sometimes I would stop and just gaze at the side of the road where a group of honeysuckle vines used to be. You see, that's the spot where I crumbled up a love note and threw it in the bushes one day after getting off the school bus because I was too shy and embarrassed to give it to the girl in my class who I had a crush on during my elementary days. And get this, here it is 2024, and after all these years, the young girl who I had a crush on way back then is today one of my Facebook Friends (I tell ya', life is some'em else, ain't it?)
No indeed, I'll never forget where I came from. Whether it's known as State Road 715 or Camp Town Road, I'll always cherish the fond memories from way back then. - Randolph Randy Camp
Learn more at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp
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When my twin brother Roger and I were juniors in high school, we moved from my relatively new house in town to a farmhouse on a blacktop county road 9 miles out of town. Largely, because with 16 year younger twin brothers who came along, Tim and Tom, my parents couldn't afford to pay the mortgage on the house and my dad's spending money like buying us new bikes and spin cast rods and reels put a strain on our family's finances. Not to mention, changing cars every year or two.
Anyway, in my junior year in college, I became paralyzed in December, 1963 and was 21 when I returned home from the hospital to the old farmhouse. Where I spent the next 8 months either walking, riding my sister's bike or my younger brother's minibike on that road down to the river or across it to a farm where I met and befriended an 18-year-old neighbor who was running the farm for his dad and 13 other children because his dad was bent over with arthritis. Tom went into the Navy drafted for the Vietnam War and we reconnected in California. He died a few years ago.4
I was riding the minibike one day, when it began to waver and I totally lost it. As it fell down below me and out of my paralyzed hands and arms, I jumped over the handlebars, landed on my feet and attempted to run, without getting any road burn from falling at that speed. I was downright lucky, but got back on it again and continue to ride.
Coincidentally, while writing about dogs in the poem I just posted last Friday, I have a picture of the minibike that resembles the picture that you have. You can read the poem here and see the minibike with my younger brothers, Tom and Tim and their dog Pete. Below
https://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewPoetry.asp?id=366491&AuthorID=3918
https://ronhullauthor.com/poems/tomtimpetescooter-aug70.jpg
Driving from Morgantown many times to Washington DC to deliver proposal before the deadline from 1975-77, I passed through Fredericksburg many times, but I was mostly watching out for the police because of the 55 mph speed limit and didn't have any time to linger down Camp Town Road. I assume named after your family.
Ron