All my “forebears” were from Madison County, south of Huntsville. My mom was born near and grew up at Japton, and my dad grew up over the ridge near Aurora on Ferrel’s Creek. My dad’s parents were still living there in the mid-‘60s – no running water, outhouse, slop bucket, and all - until my dad moved them to a farm north of Springdale.
Stay with me here…there’s a link to boating…
A few years later, Dad built his folks a new house, and I remember only one thing about moving day. As we boxed up stuff from the kitchen, we pulled out about 2 ½ bread bags full of twist ties. Yeah, wire twist ties – probably thousands of them. We shook our heads and kept on packing that day. But it was years later before I understood the significance of those twist ties, which were probably accumulated over a period of 20 years or more.
What I came to realize later was the impact the Great Depression had on those who experienced it first hand. It’s probably a big over-generalization, but I came to realize that folks from that generation didn’t throw much away, and they are pretty creative and resourceful in using what they have for other things.
Maybe that explains why you build a canoe out of car hoods.
Not long after I got into boating, we were at some family gathering, and I was probably talking – a lot – about canoeing. Someone mentioned that my uncle had built a canoe out of car hoods once, so I started shooting out the questions rapid-fire. What? Out of car hoods? Really? When? What ever happened to it? Here’s what I found out.
My great uncle built the thing out of two car hoods, along with some other sheet metal, and some metal tubing for the gunwales. I believe both hoods were from 1938 Chevys. I don't know how long it took him to weld it all together, but he finished it around the 4th of July, 1957. And my uncles took that thing all over the Ozarks and fished out of it.
Here’s the picture of the boat on the day they finished it up.

Not sure who the two men on the left are (need to find out), but third from the left is the builder, my great uncle, Claude McChristian. To his right is my great-grandfather, John Spurlock. He and his brothers built the tomato canning factory in Japton to help folks in the area scratch out enough of a living to get through the Depression.
Before they passed away, my uncles told me a few good stories about experiences they had with the boat. Those stories will have to wait a day or two.
















