To understand the “story” better, if you haven’t already read my last post (Grain Elevators and Teenage Dating – Part I), you might want to scroll down and read it and then come back to this post.
During the summers of Bill’s (now my husband) and my courtship, it was common practice to spend evenings scooping the loop in Rolfe. The official loop started at Beckords’ corner on the north side of Rolfe, went straight south on main street down past the John Deere implement store to the turnaround point at the train depot on the south side of Rolfe. A whole 6/10ths of a mile one way. I was with Bill as we cruised in his green ’65 Mercury Monterey. Repeatedly following this pattern of scooping the loop required some deviation to keep things interesting.
With me at his side in The Merc, Bill pulled up alongside the grain elevator office, probably giving me some story about different things he did during work there and/or giving me an explanation about something related to agriculture in general. We sat in his car for a minute or two while he explained, and then drove off, probably to scoop the loop, and honk at friends doing the same, another few times.
Little did I realize what Bill was up to while we were stopped by the elevator. While he was explaining, he was multi-tasking by focusing on a dial he could see through the large window of the elevator office building.
Where we had been parked was on the scale used to weigh wagons and also trucks hauling grain or livestock or whatever.
As time came to pass, Bill informed me that he had, before our date, driven The Merc onto the scale to determine how much his car weighed. And, then, you guessed it, figured out my weight by driving onto the scale with me being in the car. It made things a little better when he later told me that the scale measured in 20 lb. increments, so the scale would have been able to determine my weight only to the nearest ten pounds. What a rascal!