The Western Flyer
My name is John Tomlinson, Jr.. When I was young, all my friends called me Little Johnny Tomlinson because my father was Big John Tomlinson. My dad was over 6 feet tall, and weighed over 200 pounds, but I think they would have still called him “Big John” even if he had been 6 inches shorter and 50 pounds lighter because my dad was the superintendent of the Fries Cotton Mill. This story is about the Christmas of 1960, a Christmas that changed my life forever.
My dad was a strict disciplinarian. I don’t know if this was because of his job, or because I was, well, let’s just say a mischievous child, so dad had to practice discipline a lot. Like the time I egged our Chief of Police, Bruce Smith’s beloved Model A Ford he called Sunflower. Actually I didn’t egg him. You se
