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Page 10 · column 4 of 7 · from the scan, no model involved
By JON KLAVERKAMP
IWkMwtNm Staff Writer
Suppose for a moment that you were a young man living in Flint Hill anywhere between 1915 and 1940. Sure Flint Hill was a nice place to be - scenic and sunny - but quiet, awfully quiet for a young man.
Well, now suppose that one day, after finishing your chores, you wandered off to your favorite hilltop overlooking what is now Route 522. What then? Of course you sat and daydreamed while chewing on a long blade of grass.
Your imagination went with the wind, spinning fiction and fantasy in the clouds: you were a soldier on horseback, a champion athlete, a millionaire, you were...well, on a hilltop in Flint Hill.
Mother was calling you for supper... time for one last grand fantasy. Suddenly you saw a vision, or was it a vision? Maybe it was real!
Anyway, what came into view from out of the horizon were 25 girls on horseback riding up Route 522.
Awesome. Unbelievable. Crazy. Yes, this time for sure you thought you had gone crazy. You could rub no more sand out of your eyes, and still, riding up 522 on horseback, were 25 pretty girls.
What if this were true? What if 25 girls on horseback really did ride into Flint Hill? What would you have done as a young man?
Flipped. That is what you would have done. And that is exactly what the young men of Flint Hill did once a year between 1915 and 1940.
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