The Weekly Curmudgeon

The Seduction

rocketbobtwo — Thu, 03 May 2012 10:47:07 +0000

The Seduction
Mary and her rescuer were soon pulled from the swirling waters and back up on to the gangway where her partner John anxiously awaited. Despite her near drowning the two of them were both relieved to be aboard the freighter and ready for their mission to commence.
The Chris Craft which should have sunk by now was allowed to drift off due to the storm winds picking up again and the incapability of the freighter to tow it under such conditions. The boats scuttling devise had failed when a piece of the cabin broke loose in and struck the devices lever which then closed the petcocks it had earlier opened. The bilge pump that should have been disabled continued to run so that some hours after the storm had past, it remained afloat and relatively undamaged except for soaked cabin.
This was the shape it was in as reported later by a very young Oly Schwinn who found it adrift on his way to one of the many fish camps that existed on the islands back then. No one who could was going to claim ownership for reasons of national security so the Chris Craft was declared abandoned and awarded to its finder, Oly. This would be the same boat Oly would wreck years later and from which he escaped in the dingy he, Sweeny and Todd were unable to pull from the weeds during the stranded woodchuck event; (The woodchucks who became marooned on an ice sheet having been driven from their burrows by the atrocious singing of Oly, Todd and Sweeny preparing for the “Oklahoma “tryouts they ultimately never made it to).
After settling into a cabin aboard the freighter, John and Mary plotted their next moves. Once John had determined the location of the launch code decipher, Mary’s task was to distract her rescuer, identified by the ships CIA planted pilot, as Segre Lazalotenoff, long enough for John to disassemble, photograph and reassemble the device. John’s mission was simplified by the disguised Geiger counter which was designed to vibrate when close to anything radioactive. All he had initially to do was explore suspected areas around the ship that seemed likely hiding spots until his phony transistor radio began to shake. When that happened he would remember the place and return later alone to further investigate the exact spot which would be indicated by a light on the radio’s tuner in much the same way a stereo indicator would work years later.
Mary’s mission on the other hand seemed the easier of the two. She would simply use her female charms at the appropriate time to entice Serge into her cabin where a doctored drink would be ready to enhance what he would believe to be an erotic escapade. Matters such as these do not always work out as planned and neither John nor Mary was really prepared for the twist in their operation that arose.
For one thing, Serge was not really attracted to Mary with the same enthusiasm the rest of the Ukrainian crew showed towards her. Instead he really seemed more interested in John. So much so that he shadowed him where ever he went. At first, John wondered if Serge was onto them and was merely waiting for them to slip up. Nothing in his training at Langley prepared him for the leering advances Serge was casting his way. Accommodating Serge’s needs for the sake of the mission was a fearful proposition that was certain to challenge John’s level of patriotism. It soon became clear, moreover, that it was John who would need to induce Serge into toasting spiked vodka together. John’s only hope it seemed, was that the drugs worked really fast.
John had by this time already shared romantic notions with his partner Mary and feared what he offered her would become a soiled fruit in the event of Segre’s overtures. Furthermore, rampant homophobia at that time would have driven him from the agency if it was even suspected there had been some manner of dalliance between the two of them.
John’s worst fears almost came to past when Serge burst into his berth wearing spiked heeled boots, a long black leather slicker and nothing else but a firm determination to give John the ride of his life. Fortunately Mother Nature intervened when a huge wave crashed over the freighters bow resulting in a violent lurch which threw Segre’s head into the bulkhead knocking him unconscious for hours.
John took compromising pictures of Serge in his S&M regalia which the agency used years later to turn him into a double agent. John also made sure Serge ingested the drugs intended for him just to be sure he stayed out enough for John to complete his mission. Mary meanwhile kept the rest of the crew distracted from making inquiries about the missing crewman entertaining them with songs from the Mouseketeers. The drugs given Serge were known to induce in some salacious dreams and they must have had just such an effect on Serge for when he finally awoke he had a very satisfied look about him and made no further advances on John at all.
John had earlier located the decipher in a locker gust up from the ships galley and with Serge off on a dreamland romp, he had plenty of time to do what needed to be done which well may have averted a third world war. The freighter made port in Duluth and John and Mary disembarked while the Ukrainian crew blew kisses at Mary and Serge gave John a wink oblivious to the total failure of his own mission.

The Rescue

rocketbobtwo — Wed, 02 May 2012 16:04:08 +0000

The Rescue
John and Mary (their covert names) had little choice but to accept the help of the black clad stranger beckoning them from the aft of the Chris Craft. Were there any intention of real harm from this person then it would have been simply a matter of abandoning them to the elements. Instead this stranger was apparently there to assist and for whatever other purpose could be sorted out later.
John acknowledged the strangers plea to them and as quickly as possible in the pitching dingy, secured the line the stranger expertly threw them. The line was then attached to the Chris Craft’s motorized winch which then freed the stranger’s hands to help first Mary and then John escape the now nearly swamped dingy. Once aboard, the stranger and another person, who must have been commanding the craft from the protected cabin, urgently ushered them both into the boats forward cabin where drying blankets a waited them. The two strangers then, after first identifying themselves with the appropriate pass phrase “whitefish livers” as Navy Seals, went on to explain their unexpected presence. The taller of the two however returned to the helm while the other remained to fill in the details.
Their initial purpose, because of the approaching storm which was now beginning to engulf them, was to insure the Chris Craft remained in position until John and Mary’s arrival. Then they were to motor to a new position due to the storm caused change in course the gale had forced upon the Ukrainian freighter. Once there, and after they were certain the freighter was going to respond to their staged distress call the two would then exit in the rubber dingy still tied to the side of the boat, leaving them to again on their own accomplish this mission so important to the nation’s National security.
John and Mary were unsure about the two Seals eventual exit in the dinky rubber dingy and were frankly a little perplexed about how they had maneuvered such a small craft the considerable distance from shore. The fact was they had not really paddled the dingy far at all. Rather, they had surfaced with it from the sub which would soon be tailing both them and the freighter. In the event, they were unable to accomplish their mission and the launch code decipher remained unaltered then the sub would have no choice but send the freighter to the deep well before it made port in Duluth.
This was an event all would wish to avoid for sinking a foreign flagged vessel could be construed as an act of war just as easily as the reason for it could be thought he same. Consequently, in the face of such brinkmanship, shrewd choices must be made and knowledge of them restricted to a select few. John and Mary were not among them and neither were the seals. Even the Sub’s captain was left in the dark of this possible outcome. He had been left with sealed orders that were only to be opened in the event of the mission’s failure. John and Mary would go down with the ship as anonymous pawns in a cold war game of chess none would ever know was played. Such was the urgency of their mission back then, that years later when its true details were at last revealed, the revelation would leave them speechless.
John and Mary knew none of this while drying out below in the Chris Craft as one of the seals piloted it to the interception point. They retrieved their fake ID’s from inside the cushions which padded the galley seats and then made sure to conceal the camera unit which would be used to photograph the inner workings of the devise they were seeking. The miniature Kodak was made to look like an extra battery for the fake transistor radio which was really a Geiger counter. The faux battery slid nicely into the handle of Mary’s oversized blush brush.
After that, they went over the procedure for activating the boats scuttling devise. It would be put to use shortly before they abandoned the boat to board the freighter. One reason for this was to have it appear that they really were in need of rescue and another was to have any record of them disappear altogether.
Thankfully the eye of the storm began to pass over them as they came within sight of the Ukrainian freighter meaning that their transfer would not be near as bad as they feared. The distress call was sent and as soon as it was seen that the ship was making a turn towards them, the two seals bid them luck departing before the freighter came near enough to see their escape. They would remain however near enough to determine the transfer took place before radioing their position to the sub which would retrieve them as soon as the freighter was well out of sight.
Minuets passed before the freighter was near enough for John to safely trigger the scuttling device which would pop the custom installed petcocks in the boats bilge. They then took up positions in the stern frantically waving their arms like the scared young boaters they were supposed to look like. As the ship drew nearer still a gangway was lowered and soon a crewman descended it carrying several lengths of rope with a float attached to the end. Other crewmen above threw out some life preservers while another pitched a rope ladder over the side. It almost seemed as though this Ukrainian was as determined to get them aboard safely every bit as much as they were. When they were close enough to hear over the din of the waves breaking against the hull of the freighter John was instructed to toss out the boats bumpers and to use a gaff hook to snag the float the crewman on the gangway was trying to throw him. He pretended to have a hard time understanding the broken English of the crewmen so well that the Ukrainian native really thought this idiot should never be allowed near a boat again. By the time John finally got the boat secured water from the bilge could be seen from the ship to be rising into the cabin of the Chris Craft making the need of a quick transfer more pressing than ever. John was able make the jump from the stern to the gangway with relative ease but Mary lost her footing as the boat suddenly heaved just as she was pushing off. Her legs swept out from under her and her head came frightfully close to colliding with the boats aft deck before plunging into the lake’s frigid waters.
John had no time to react before the crewman on the gangway dived in to rescue John’s floundering mate. Mary was flailing about for her cosmetic case which contained the vital equipment they both needed forgetting in her immediate panic that it remained securely around her neck. She was still flailing when the crewman placed the donut preserver over her and began to swim her back to the gangway where in addition to John other crewmen were waiting to pull in this attractive little mermaid. She could not know at that moment her rescuer was the target of this whole covert affair.

Dark Passage

rocketbobtwo — Tue, 01 May 2012 12:37:00 +0000

Dark Passage
The dingy was nearly swamped by the time they came within reach of the Chris Craft. The pelting rain had changed into a merciless sleet as the wind began to whistle the tune of an impending gale. Because both needed to appear as novice boaters to the Russian crew of the freighter neither of them were dressed for the bone chilling damp that now threatened them with hypothermia. Hopefully once safely aboard the Chris Craft there would be blankets and some sort of heater.
Disembarking from the dingy and boarding the Chris Craft was going to be a tricky affair under the increasing storm, but they had been trained well of the Oregon bar where the Columbia meets the Pacific and as a result were well versed in the art of ship to ship transfers in foul weather. The biggest danger was getting caught between crafts and crushed when one would slam into the other. At least here it would be a short jump to a perch onto the aft of the Chris Craft as it pitched every which way in the tossing waters. Boarding the freighter would be a far more harrowing experience for then they would have to leap a larger gap and grab onto a swinging stair rope that was generally more and more unpredictable with the increasing intensity of the weather.
They were within fifty yards of their goal when an imminently more threatening complication than the weather appeared in the aft of the Chris Craft. A dark clad figure was swinging a lantern and beckoning to them. The petite agent’s first thought was how he had got there, but this was soon answered when as the Chris Craft turned into the wind she could make out the familiar shape of a rubber dingy much like the ones they had trained on.
These were fairly common craft any civilian could get at a surplus store so she could not entirely trust seeing one now meant it came from the agency. She frantically alerted her partner who was arduously rowing with his back to the situation by kicking at his now nearly frozen feet until he looked up long enough to see her stabbing a pointed finger at the craft ahead of them. Seeing the black clad figure was an alarming turn of events that begged a lot of questions.
Had their mission been compromised for how else could this mysterious figure know to expect their arrival in the midst of a storm, or for that matter, know where to look for their Chris Craft? Furthermore, what the hell were they to do about it now? They could not turn back with any hope of making shore in the approaching gale and with no weapons upon them they stood little hope of overpowering the suspected highjacker. They were both near exhaustion and frozen senseless from the cold. Then as they drifted nearer they could just make out over the howl of the wind their covert names being called out repeatedly. “Mary; Mary and John Smith” the black clad figure wailed from the stern.
Hearing their names brought a cold comfort for whoever it was calling them could have found their fake IDs aboard, they both agreed with growing depredation. Still, the near certainty of being swallowed by the maelstrom compelled a fateful choice which on the morrow shall be made.

The Beach Party

rocketbobtwo — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 11:22:42 +0000

The afternoon beside the lake had been as pleasant as any couple could expect in the latter part of April. Many times in years past they had ventured out onto the thinning ice daring each other in the recklessness of youth to see who would turn back first. The winter had been mild this season so that the balmy days of an early spring instead tempted a sooner planting in the garden and serious thoughts of putting one’s sailboat into the water long before Memorial Day.
For the senior couple on the beach that day however, such thoughts were far away for this was Lake Superior which had still to teach many a novice just how freckled it could be in springtime. The mighty lake had certainly taught the two of them an unforgettable lesson that spring blizzard many decades ago when they trained together for the mission which almost separated them forever.
It was the height of the cold war when the two of them, both fresh out of college, were recruited into a special branch of the Coast Guard by the CIA. The agency needed a couple of innocent faced recruits that would seem so pure no one in the KGB would suspect their nefarious mission. The two had been spotted at the homecoming ball their last year in Madison where they were chosen as the sweetest couple which was really a title neither had strived for. She, having always been this cute petite brunette was never expected to be much more than a Mouseketeer extra. Resenting this characterization, she was more than ready to jump into undercover work with the CIA where her pixie-ness was a valued asset.
He, on the other hand, outwardly shy and of little statue, had never received much respect for the awesome analytical skills the CIA would soon put to work in the treacherous game of espionage.
They were sent to Langley where they spent several weeks learning spy craft at night while during the day they each worked at innocuous civilian jobs. She as a bookkeeper for a travel agency while he worked as a sales rep for a adding Machine Company. When their training was done they were sent north to the little Coast Guard station in Bayfield where they were to prepare in cold weather for their first real mission.
Only the general details of this mission can now be revealed as much of it remains classified and heavily redacted by Homeland security. The groundwork for the mission had begun weeks before with the intercept of a KGB cable indicating that an agent had boarded a Ukrainian freighter in Estonia that was headed to Duluth for a shipment of grain. Why, was a matter of speculation until the reason was later revealed that this agent had graduated from an elite weapons institute outside of Stalingrad which had only recently obtained the launch codes for the new ICBM’s from a British double agent? These ICBMs were at the time being secretly transported to silos in North Dakota after being unloaded from the hold of the Coast Guard’s newest ice breaker which had been specifically built for this mission alone. The thinking at the agency was that for the agent’s threat to be real he must be carrying some sort of device to over ride the fail safe codes of the launch systems. This had to be a very sophisticated mechanism no ordinary agent could handle and additionally one that had to have an atomic signature. Thus, securing the devise was every bit as important as stopping the agent for they needed to know what new safe guards would need to be put in place as a result of the threat posed by this contraption?
The plan was devised to intercept the Freighter as it passed through the Apostle Islands by means of a distress signal from a swamped Chris Craft which had been charted by a sweet young couple supposedly from the Twin Cities. The Freighter’s Pilot, who had to be an American pilot by international agreement, was, unbeknownst to the Ukrainian crew, also a CIA agent who would not hesitate to rescue the young mariners even though it was universally acceptable to rescue any sailors in distress regardless of national origin. Once aboard the Freighter, the pixie like agent would charm the KGB agent while her cohort searched for the devise with a hand held Geiger counter disguised as one of those new transistor radios that were all the rage back then. Now, in case the devise was found the mission was to dismantle and photograph enough of its parts to decipher its means of working before reassembling the devise and allowing the KGB to think they had subverted the nation’s nuclear stockpile. The advantage for such an outcome would be that in the event of an attack the Russians would launch all their missiles believing we could not reprogram our defenses in time for a counterstrike. As a result, it was assumed the Russians would realize their error too late and therefore, being defenseless, would sue for peace in the face of total annihilation.
So it was the senior couple on this very same beach set out in a dingy one rainy night in 1959 to begin their mission aboard a Chris Craft anchored off shore while the rest of the world slept. Tomorrow will tell just how near that mission ended in disaster.

The Shop

rocketbobtwo — Fri, 27 Apr 2012 11:51:49 +0000

The Shop
The young boy squinted as he stared into the smudged window of the shop trying to bring to life again the memories that once resided there. Where were the funky tin toys, plush puppets and odd little contraptions that once beckoned him to be a trick in a game of magic, or walk an imaginary dog on an empty leash? Wasn’t this the little store where the Harry Potter look alike studied in the backroom with his little Sister while their mother discussed meditation music with students from her Yoga class? The same store their father tried again and again to arrange in some form of order the delightful mish mash of goods the little place had crammed all together.
He remembered along one wall heavy woven sweaters were mixed with bright tie dyed sun dresses and strange Peruvian caps that thankfully his own mother never foisted upon him. Part of another wall were shelves lined with incense burners and vessels for all manner of burnt offerings which shared space with that odd statue of a snake headed lady with way too many arms that sat beside a pair of smiling Buddha’s. They of course fit right in with the prayer flags and Tibetan gongs on another shelve just above the one with what appeared to be an updated an updated version of Lincoln logs.
There was little doubt the store had been a real potpourri of things one would not expect to find together and particularly not in Oklahoma where it was rumored the young family moved to after closing this little corner on imagination. What remained now was at best a throwback to a time when barbers pulled teeth. The crusty geezer in the chair inside looked to the young boy like a tooth ache personified while the one doing the cutting chatted like an ancient Howdy Doody. The young boy’s own Dad had warned him of such barbers who had learned to cut hair by placing a bowl over the head so that in the end all would look like Moe from the Three Stooges. One thing for certain the geezer in the chair was looking more and more like Moe would just before blowing up at Larry. Thankfully, the young man had finally convinced his Dad he didn’t need to see those old reruns again.
The young man after a final look at the Rockwell scene taking place inside, turned away disappointed for it was clear he was not going to find elsewhere in Bayfield the sort of twisted birthday card this former shop of wonders once held. At least there even if they had not the card he was seeking then at least they would have had the right stuff for making one. Now there was no place to find artsy stuff so he was forced to instead compose a little ditty wishing his old man the happiest of Birthdays.

Work

rocketbobtwo — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 12:22:46 +0000

Work Day
Seymour Readmour surmised a working relationship between the two city workers as they tackled the task before them. The older of the two by reason of his attitude was the other’s supervisor and it was clear he was intending to demonstrate the proper procedure for executing what it was they were about to do.
Seymour wasn’t certain just what that was or that it was going smoothly for there was first a lot of probing and poking as though searching for where to attach the end of the long tool the supervisor had only moments before inserted into the hole with an air of confidence that said “ Let me show you how it’s done”. The grunting and exasperated swearing however, that followed the assumed attachment seemed to indicate a different outcome. Additionally, the look on the face of the supervisor’s underling was the look of one who had also reached the same conclusion Seymour had reached. That, of course, being a been there done that look of experience. Seymour could see this was a typical situation where the disconnect between what is understood in the office is seldom practiced out in the field.
The senior of the two continued with no avail to exert himself until he at last relented too allow his cohort a shot at the frustrating task. The younger man then grabbed hold of the tool with the same familiarity a seasoned arm wrestling champ might grab the hand of a challenger whom he would let strain a bit before slamming his hand to the table. So while the younger of the two pretended to struggle so as to preserve the senior’s shaken pride, the supervisor returned to what he was best at doing watching for traffic. It was a short lookout for it was but a couple of turns of the tool before the younger worker pulled up the tool declaring the task done.
Seymour observed that this was perhaps a bit premature as the older of the two then took the tool and reinserted it into the hole to confirm what the other had said not because he couldn’t trust what he had been told, but because that is what supervisor’s do. They call it providing oversight. The younger worker had another name for it but being a seasoned employee kept it too himself.

Das Reader

rocketbobtwo — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 12:28:00 +0000

The Reader.

The Boss man followed Sweeny and Oly over to the sight of their most recent debacle in his Dad’s classic 52 Chevy half ton. The Boss man’s Dad always claimed that while a Ford might get you to the site sooner, if you wanted to get the job done than a Chevy was the truck to have. The Boss man however was a power wagon junkie along with his buddy Seymour who not too long ago used his rescuing these same two from some ill fated trip through the Barrens. If the Boss man had the story straight it seems they had managed to blow up Seymour’s Gator in the process so, at the least, this current fiasco wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Whatever the case may be, the Boss man’s outfit was at the moment loaned out so the old Chevy was going to have to prove his old man right again which is something he won’t in a anyway be shy about pointing out.
Meanwhile, back at the Big Water in Bayfield, another sign of impending summer has shown up for a morning read. To an outside observer this particular reader would seem at first glance to be an interesting old codger from Bayfield’s international community because of his Austrian accent. Maybe he’s a retired prisoner of war who now just tends to his rutabagas and squash garden in a private redress of a past better left buried. Such would be the conclusion of Dicky Knowman who suspected in every piece of strudel evidence of a hidden Nazi nearby. He would cite as further evidence of this the reader’s choice of dress sometimes made him look like an extra on the Sound of Music set; especially when he wore one those funny caps those guys wear who blow the long horns in that silly cough drop commercial. Although, the reader was known to blow his own horn on occasion, Sweeny was quick to point out to Dicky the cough drops in question were of Swiss origin.
Dicky Knowman would seem however to have an exclusive view shared thankfully by few others than a couple of board members up in the town of Russell. This is a subject the reader could expound at great length about for in his experience Louisiana is not the only place with a Willie Stark. Crony capitalism is alive and well in the town of Russell. It is a state of affairs shared by a select few who feed from the public trough as though it were a font of graft given in appreciation for their public service. The reader could point out many examples of this corruption but how one would know this cannot be discerned by observation alone. This is at least one thing the Reader shares in common with the conspiracy aficionados like Dickey Knowman.
In addition to many other things having little to do with his Germanic past, the reader is a limo driver who reportedly does well driving numerous sets of young newlyweds around the area. Most of these newlyweds come from the twin cities where it is not at all odd to be driven around by someone with an accent. Imagine their added delight when their driver actually has a European accent rather than some East Asian or Middle Eastern one. That in conjunction with the fact that they are nearly as old as the limo must make it all the more memorable.
This morning, the reader is obviously trying to fit inn for he is sporting a Wisconsin Badger’s sweater and reading the Daily Press which no one really wanting any news would bother with unless they were trying to keep up with the latest spin from the RNC. Some have noticed he is quite insistent on reading the Press every day. Why will have to be investigated.

The Repair

rocketbobtwo — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 13:27:54 +0000

The Repair
Oly was relieved to find another 48 Ford even though there was no guarantee it would still have the part he needed or that its owner would let him have the part. Sweeny though assured him they already had permission to strip whatever part he needed so they should get to it before the weather changed.
Oly crawled under the truck and discovered to his dismay a big nest of mud wasps had attached to the bell housing a nest completely encircling the clutch apparatus. Normally at this time of year this would not have been a problem as the wasps would still be in a state of hibernation. However it was not a normal winter this year and a hot wind this past weekend had sent the sandman packing so the wasp were beginning to stir. Fortunately, Oly had heard them just moments before he reached to tear open the bothersome nest.
“Damn” he said to no one in particular, as he quickly squeezed from beneath the flat bed. “I can’t believe I can be this close to having that spring” he gesticulated with thumb and forefinger grasping some tiny unseen bug. “It’s not fair” Oly went on to rant before expanding his complaint to blame the whole nest on global warming. Sweeny thought this was funny since Oly was usually on the other side of such arguments in conjunction with Dickey Knowman from the island.
Sweeny was about to point this incongruity out when Oly stormed off in the direction of Shuga’s garage declaring “they are going to get some global warming like they have never seen”. Sweeny wasn’t certain of what Oly had in mind but he had a pretty good Idea. When Oly returned shortly later with one of them propane torches plumbers use, Sweeny could see he had no cause to doubt his first thoughts on the matter. Clearly Oly was going to burn the offending nest out of the way as a quicker solution than other maybe safer methods like spraying them with some sort of bug juice after they went to sleep at night.
Oly was way too impatient to listen to any reason at this point so the only thing Sweeny could do was step out of the way while Oly slipped under the flatbed with the lit torch. Had Oly not been in such a rush he might have thought to make sure there was only one nest beneath the old Ford. There wasn’t just one and after he lit the first he had the misfortune to discover the second when he used his foot to push against the muffler to make for a faster exit.
The number of honey combs is probably in the hundreds should one care to count how many might reside in an old Midas muffler and the amount of time Oly was willing to spend counting them was a comparable number of milliseconds. Oly dashed as fast he could into the cab of Sweeny’s truck where Sweeny was already seated having anticipated the result of Oly’s folly. Consequently, Oly was able to escape with a few stings from the enraged bees who also shared the underside of the truck with the now frying mud wasps. Nevertheless, neither Oly nor Sweeny counted on the oily underside of the flatbed to flame up as quickly as it did and so faced with the real chance the surrounding brush could soon ignite Sweeny fired up his own truck and pushed the flaming Ford into a nearby pond. There the flames died with a sizzle of steam while the homeless swarm dissipated.
There was something almost sad as the last bee buzzed of while the steaming flatbed settled into the oozing mud of the pond with a gurgle as if to give a final gasp in its death knell.
Both of them knew however, that this ignoble end of the flatbed was not one Shuga would be pleased to discover. Therefore, something had to be done to mitigate the situation in a hurry. Sweeny’s truck by its self wasn’t powerful enough to pull the wreck from the pond and he couldn’t enlist just anybody to assist. There was one good friend in Bayfield who could be trusted to keep this whole embarrassing affair to himself and who also had a truck with legendary reputation from many exploits in the barrens. This would be a big favor which Sweeny felt they would have to ask in person and soon.
Thus they headed straight to Bayfield and soon were turning onto the street where salvation sat parked in the drive way of Sweeny’s good friend. Sweeny shortly got out and explained their dire straits and the urgency for action. Sweeny’s friend paused in thought for several moments before agreeing to help. Sweeny was so grateful all he could say to his friend was “You’re the boss man”.

Spring

rocketbobtwo — Mon, 16 Apr 2012 13:08:28 +0000

The Spring
Sweeny was at last able to mail off drawings so that he was now free to track down the clutch spring. Oly in the meantime was waiting to hear the rest of the punchbowl story, yet Sweeny wasn’t saying anything. As they rounded he curve just the past Seagull, Oly began to suspect Sweeny was having a BS block. He was about to say something as they approached Highway J on their way out of town when his friend finally spoke up.
“So as I was saying, the police chief had just gotten this new Hudson the week before and had made a point of letting everyone know he was more than prepared to crack down on any illegal hot rodding. As a result, these young punks tearing off in what must have been a souped up flat head was an intolerable infraction that had to be addressed. Not only that, there was the suspicion of a crime having just been committed which added fuel to the chase the chief was now engaged in. Well by all accounts it was a near Bonnie and Clyde type run as your Grandpa and pals nearly flipped at the turn onto J and then came within a camel’s hair of the ditch avoiding Farmer Johansson on his tractor trying out his new lights”.
“The chase continued on to Star Route with the chief in hot pursuit careening around every curve and swerving past as best he could every head banging dip in the narrow twisting road. Why I am telling you, Sweeny went on to explain, to hear the way the chief told it you would it was a revenue agent chasing moonshiners through the hollers of Kentucky. One of your Grandpa’s buds got the not so bright idea to toss the purloined punch bowl out the window figuring the broken glass would cause a flat on the pursuing Hudson. This might well have happened were it not for the deer. It was an incredible turn of event almost providential in nature for at the same time the bowl was being tossed this young buck leaped into the roadway between the racing cars. Now you can believe it or not, Sweeny continued in a tone of grave certainty, that bowl hit the buck and then sideswiped the Hudson’s hood before flying into a blackberry bramble unmarred but for the smudgy prints of the preps’ who had lifted it earlier. The chief’s new Hudson however was not so lucky for to avoid hitting the deer the chief tipped into the ditch and after bruising bang into a culvert the Hudson slammed its side into an old growth Pine which hardly shuddered at the impact. Needless to say the Hudson’s side was a total, but fortunately the chief was unhurt except for a devastating blow to his pride.
He was able to retrieve the punch bowl even though the city council was unimpressed with the cost of recovery which some say led the chief’s early departure. Now what this has to do with this clutch spring is this, Sweeny went on to wrap things up; the Chief’s radio was still working at the scene of his near fatal encounter with the flying punch bowl. So, he was able to call for a tow and just what truck do you think showed up, Sweeny went on to ask as he turned into the short road leading to Shuga’s repair? This one right he concluded coming to a stop beside the rusted remains of a 48 flatbed.

Side Trip

rocketbobtwo — Sun, 15 Apr 2012 11:20:13 +0000

Sweeny and Oly were on their way to find the clutch spring when Sweeny remembered he needed to drop something off at the post office. An associate of his was designing a set for some summer theatre alongside the banks of the Wabash in southren Indiana. He should of mailed the plans yesterday but in a senior moment he forgot which in view of the fact that the show in question is “On Golden Pond” should be an understandable event. However, when Sweeny pulled up to the post office he realized today was Sunday and so it was going to be a long wait until the place opened again on Monday. Oly thought this would be a good time to tell the rest of the punch bowl story but Sweeny, frustrated at but another senior moment, decided that would have to wait until this current task was done.