For 13 years, between kindergarten in 1948 and graduation in 1961, my twin brother Dave and I rode a big yellow school bus from our farmhouse in Ancramdale to a single school building, Pine Plains Central. The route, about 13 miles, would ebb and flow slightly over the years, depending on where various children lived. About a third of the route was along dirt roads.
We had two drivers: Vinnie and Quinnie. We started out with Vinnie – Vincent Wright – for a couple of years. Then Quinnie – William Quinn – took over. Quinnie gave our family a beagle puppy we named Dinker. Dinker later had a litter of her own, born right on my bed, with me in it. We added Little Dog, one of the puppies from Dinker’s “bed-born” litter, to the family.
Mr. Quinn was kind and generous, but strict in his discipline. One afternoon on the way home from school, my brother and I were acting up. When we reached our farmhouse stop, Quinnie angrily and firmly applied the emergency brake and strode off the bus. Marching us to the house, he presented us to my mother, who was in the kitchen. He then described our unacceptable behavior and left us for punishment meted out by our parents.
In upstate New York, winter months sometimes required putting the chains on the bus tires. This wasn’t something relished by either the driver or us kids. The chains were chunky and could be loud. Invariably, a crosslink would snap, resulting in a “bang, bang, bang” as the loose link clanged against the metal wheel well towards the back of the bus. We studiously avoided sitting over the rear wheels when the chains were on.
Then, as winter turned to spring, the frozen dirt roads turned muddy. More than once, the bus actually got stuck in the mire and would have to be pulled free by a local farmer with a tractor.
One warm spring day, we were riding home from school with the bus windows open. I was horsing around as usual, and playfully threw my prized baseball glove at a kid across the aisle. To my dismay, it bounced off my friend and flew out the window into a roadside ditch. I was horrified, but Quinnie – ever the task master — refused to stop and let me retrieve it. Later, my mother drove me back to the scene of the crime. The glove was nowhere to be found.
But as I say, Quinnie had a gentler side as well. The rides home would usually include a stop at the general store in the hamlet of Ancramdale, where several kids would get off. On many an afternoon, Quinnie would let one of us run into the store to buy penny candies for the group. We’d line up our orders in advance. I remember usually getting a couple of Atomic Fireballs for the ride home.
Over the years, we probably rode in about three different buses, finally graduating to a big “flat-front” yellow bus. By the time we were juniors and seniors in high school, we were sometimes able to snag a ride in an actual car, driven by a senior. And a few times, we even rode our bicycles to school on a more direct 10-mile route. It took about an hour.
Roger Snyder grew up in Ancramdale on his parents’ Chimney Hill dairy farm, now the site of the Cricket Hill equestrian center. Snyder and his wife have lived in Manassas, Virginia for the past 43 years.
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As we commemorate the 200th anniversary of the town we all call home, the New Pine Plains Herald wants to hear from you!
Maybe you have a family story that stretches back through generations. Maybe you remember a favorite walk, friendship or pet. It could be the winning run in a baseball game, the birth of a calf or the crunch of autumn leaves. There’s simply no limit to what Pine Plains represents to each of the people who live here.
Throughout the Bicentennial year, the Herald will be publishing your stories, creating a portrait of the town through your memories and images. If you’ve got a story you’d like to share, please send 200 to 500 words (ideally) and 1-2 photographs to editor@newpineplainsherald.org. If you’ve got a great story to share but don’t care for writing, get in touch! We’d be happy to listen to your story and help put it into print.
Please include your name, brief biographical details and contact information so we can reach you with any questions or edits.
We look forward to hearing from you!