The Dangerous Adventures of Jeep Muldoon!

by Matt Musson

  Of course, the First Apple Church and all the Rangers got to be in all the newspapers. And, three TV stations drove up from Charlotte and interviewed everyone. Finally, as show of appreciation the First Apple Ladies auxiliary hosted a dinner in our honor: which may have been the finest meal ever prepared in history of Granite Falls. And, all the Rangers ate our as much of that heavenly chow as we could stuff down our gullets. Then, everybody there made a big show of signing my cast.

  You see, I was the last official casualty of the Battle of Granite Falls. When I fired the cannon, the left wheel recoiled back over my right foot. It broke my ankle in three places. So, I have to admit that Ollie Tolley was right about something after all. When messing with a Civil War cannon, I should have stayed in my original position, 10 paces to the rear.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  The Adventure of the Rocket Bike!

  Some people don’t like Mondays because Monday is the start of the new work week. It’s the farthest point from the weekend and all you have in front of you are five boring school days. That’s five days of getting up early, homework, pop quizzes, school lunches and going to bed early. It’s true that here and there you may get an hour for some fun. But for the most part, you have to save you plans and projects for the weekend.

  But really, Monday is not so bad. Not if you spend it looking backwards.

  You can talk about what you did over the weekend and find out what your classmates were up to. You can discuss the games from Saturday and Sunday and what place you favorite teams are in. And often, you hear some juicy piece of news or scandal about some outrageous behavior or some breakups and make ups that took place during the preceding 48 hours. So, Monday is not really that bad.

  It’s Tuesday that’s really boring.

  By Tuesday, you’ve already discussed everything that happened over the weekend and you’ve still got three more school nights and four school days to survive before the freedom of Saturday and Sunday.

  So, it’s not surprising that on a Tuesday afternoon we would all be sitting around the tree house wishing for an adventure. Even our WI-FI connection was down so we were completely cut off from the outside world. It seemed like our only option was to sit around and drink root beer and stare at each other. Of course, after Thor and Shad consumed three root beers a piece, nature took its course.

  “BUURRRPPPP!”

  That burp exploded from Thor Munson’s first string linebacker’s frame like it was escaping from a Justin Beaver concert. It was truly an impressive feat. I believe that leaves actually fell from the tree. But Thor’s belching supremacy would certainly not go unchallenged. Shad was standing with a fresh root beer in one hand and rubbing his considerable belly with the other. Within a few seconds he yelled, “Fire in the hole.”

  We all took cover and Shad unleashed what must have been a major part of the annual carbonation production of entire United States of America. In fact, it may have been the first human burp to ever register on the Richter scale.

  “Wow”, said Freddy, brushing the dust off his shorts after pretending to have been knocked to the floor. “We have to be the luckiest guys ever!”

  “Why?” I asked, “Because we were at ground zero for Shad’s greatest burp?”

  “No”, Freddy answered. “We’re lucky that one came out as a burp. Knowing Shad, it could just as easily have come out the other end!”

  After we finished laughing, I observed, “If only we could harness that kind of power. There’s no telling what we could do with it.”

  “Maybe we can,” replied Charlie, dragging out his back pack.

  Charlie unzipped his bag and searched inside for a minute before he pulled out a copy of Popular Mechanics. Then, he thumbed through the magazine until he found what he was looking for. Finally, Charlie flopped the publication down onto the footlocker in the center of the room. There article he showed was entitled, Build Your Own Rocket Bike! It featured a picture of a helmeted rider with flames shooting out the back of his bicycle. The caption explained that the rocket bike had a top speed in excess of 60 mph.

  “What’s a rocket bike got to do with burping?” I asked.

  “They are very similar,” explained Charlie. “A burp is just a jet of gas the stomach expels through the esophagus. A rocket expels a jet of gas through its nozzle. In the case of the burp – the result is noise. While the result of the rocket is a propulsive force called thrust. In this rocket bike, the thrust propels the rider from 0 to 60 in about 5 seconds. In fact, the rocket bike will beat a stock Porsche in a drag race.”

  “Wow!” said Freddie. “Let’s buy one for the club.”

  “You can’t buy ‘em. They are not on the market,” said Charlie. “You have to build them yourself.”

  “Well, then let’s build one,” said Freddie. “Can we do that?”

  I looked over and saw Toby had picked up the magazine and Bogdon was already opening up his sketch book. I pointed at the two inventors.

  “I’d like to see someone try and keep those two from building one.”

  “Well if they need more inspiration,” said Shad. “Here it comes!”

  We held on tight as Shad uncorked another monster burp that shook the entire tree.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  The Rangers have been building and flying rockets since before we were even a club. Charlie and his Dad are especially dedicated Rocketeers. One time, Mr. Sinclair even modified his largest rocket, taking the parachute out and stuffing the payload container full of silver iodide crystals. He and Charlie fired the rocket into the next big black cloud that came by. Blam! The rocket seeded the cloud with silver iodide and down came a shower. They actually made it rain!

  So anyway, we have lots of rocket experience. But not this kind of rocket experience. The rocket bike was a different kind of animal. It was a hybrid rocket that burned a combination of nitrous oxide and roofing tar. And we had to build the rocket motors ourselves. But, working together, it was surprising how fast and easy, building the rocket bike turned out to be.

  A tank of liquid nitrous oxide was bolted to the frame of a standard bike frame just in front of the seat. We ran a hose from the tank into the combustion chamber mounted on the rear of the bike on an extension platform. We made the combustion chamber from a large diameter steel pipe and filled it with heated roofing tar. When the tar cooled into a solid, we drilled a small hollow tunnel through the middle of the tar for the nitrous oxide to flow through. We finished off the rocket by fitting a nozzle to the back.

  After test firing a couple of times at an old limestone quarry west of town, we decided we were ready for the first manned launch of the Rocket Bike. Since we did not have a test track, we decided to use Falls Avenue as our ground zero. It has a long straight roadway of smooth blacktop that crosses over the ‘granite falls’ on Gunpowder Creek.

  Our test pilot, Charlie Sinclair, looked like a NASCAR driver after he put on the dark blue fireproof jump suit we bought for the occasion. In addition, Toby insisted that Charlie wear a special motorcycle helmet that offered 360 degrees of head protection. At these speeds with a homemade rocket you can’t be too careful.

  Toby and I started walking down the road just east of the Municipal Golf Course. We strolled over a mile down the black top, searching for debris or pot holes that might cause an accident. After sweeping off some broken glass and removing an old piece of tire tread, we returned to the starting point and informed the assembled Rangers the launch site was ready.

  Using a pair of climbing spikes, Freddie shinnied about twenty five feet up a large tulip poplar just beside the road. He attached a chair stand and made himself comfortable. Freddie’s job was to observe Falls Road and let us know when we had a traffic free period long enough for our test run. He would also record the occasion using a video camera equipped with a telephoto lens.

  Charlie gave the rocket bike one last walk around in
spection. He lifted the back and spun the rear tire with his hand. He checked to make sure all the rocket mountings were bolted securely. He studied the pressure gauge on the nitrous oxide tank. He squeezed the throttle and we could hear a shushing sound as a blast of liquid gas was released.

  When Charlie was satisfied everything as A-OK, he mounted the vehicle and put on his helmet.

  “Radio check,” Charlie said over the helmet mounted transmitter. “Counting backwards from five. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

  “Radio is five by five,” Toby responded over one of the hand held units the rest of us were carrying.

  “Freddie? How’s it looking up there?” asked Bogdon.

  “There’s one old pickup heading towards town on Falls Avenue. After it moves by us, I think we will have an opening,” Freddie replied.

  “All Rangers stand clear of the Rocket Bick,” Bogdon announced. “We have a live fire. Repeat. We have a live fire. On my mark we will count down from ten.”

  Our eyes were glued to the slowly approaching pickup.

  “Any changes Freddie?” Bogdon inquired.

  “No changes. The launch site remains clear.”

  Bogdon called to Charlie, “Test pilot? Are you ready?”

  “The test pilot’s ready,” Charlie responded. And he gave us a thumbs up sign.

  Bogdon spoke again, “All units. All units. We are in go mode for launch. Count down will begin as soon as we are clear down range.”

  The battered red pickup was now close enough to identify the driver. It was old Mr. Polyaw from the Polyaw lumber yard. He did not seem to realize he was holding up our firing sequence. He just smiled and waved as he slowly pulled on by. A couple of us waived back, but Bogdon was too focused to respond.

  “Freddie,” he demanded. “Are we clear?”

  “We are clear in both directions.”

  “Good,” responded Bogdon. “Begin rolling tape on the five count. Charlie? Are you ready?”

  “Ready for launch,” Charlie responded.

  “All units. All units. This is not a drill. This is a live fire. I am beginning count down.”

  “Ten”

  “Nine”

  “Eight”

  “Seven”

  “Six”

  “Five”

  “Tape is rolling,” injected Freddie.

  “Four”

  “Three”

  “Two”

  “One”

  “Ignition!”

  Charlie hit the trigger button. An electrical charge hit the igniter on a small model rocket engine in the combustion chamber and for about two seconds the model rocket engine fired, causing the roofing tar to begin burning. The white smoke from the tiny engine soon turned into oily black smoke from the burning tar. We could see a flame extending from the back of the chamber like a barbeque pit with too much charcoal starter. The tar in the combustion chamber was ignited – but the thrust would not come until the Nitrous Oxide was applied.

  “Go for throttle up!” Bogdon commanded.

  “Roger,” Charlie replied. “I am throttling up!”

  As Charlie squeezed the throttle, nitrous oxide flowed into the combustion chamber. Adding the gas caused the tar to burn a hundred times faster. Suddenly the flame coming out of the combustion chamber exploded into a jet of fire. White smoke belched out and the bike lurched forward, while Toby and Shad activated their stop watches.

  Charlie held on for all he was worth as he accelerated down the road. For the next few seconds he did his best to count off the miles on his speedometer.

  “Twenty”

  “Thirty”

  “Forty”

  “Fifty”

  “Sixty miles per hour!” Charlie announced triumphantly and he began his throttle down procedure. But, even though the rocket was throttling back Charlie’s forward motion continued to climb.

  “I have sixty-five miles per hour and all systems are functioning normally!”

  At approximately eight and a half seconds into the ride two important things occurred. The first happening we expected. Just like we planned, the rocket burned through the last of the roofing tar. Charlie released the throttle and held on while the bike coasted along at sixty-seven miles per hour.

  We had not planned for the second happening.

  From his observation point in the tulip poplar, Freddie was the first one of us to observe the white Sheriff’s car turning onto Falls Avenue from Grace Chapel Road. He even got some pretty good pictures of Sheriff Killdeer watching in astonishment as Charlie passed him going the opposite direction on a bicycle doing over sixty miles per hour.

  It only took a second for the Sheriff to overcome his surprise and flip on his lights and siren. He slammed on his brakes and made a quick U-turn. The Sheriff pushed his pedal to the floor and took out after Charlie like he was the Unibomber!

  Seeing the Sheriff in hot pursuit of Charlie Sinclair and our rocket bike, Freddie paraphrased those immortal words of Apollo 13,“Bogdon, we have a problem.”

  For several seconds we just stood there with a blank look on our faces. It had never occurred to us we might be violating the law by launching our rocket bike. We were just middle schoolers testing our experiment. Like statues, we stood with our mouths hanging open until a second Sheriff’s car came up Falls Avenue from town. Its lights were flashing and its siren was on. It looked like Sheriff Killdeer had called for backup.

  The second car passed us at what seemed like a hundred miles an hour. We recognized Deputy Burcham as he sped by. But, suddenly, his break lights flashed on. This second Sheriff’s car came to a stop a couple of blocks down the road. And, he hung a u-turn. When he floored it and started heading our way, we realized he was coming back for us!

  That finally jarred us into action. I remember hearing a panicked voice scream “RUN!” over the radio. But, I don’t have the faintest idea who was speaking. At that point I was completely focused on trying to keep from being the first person in my family to ever be arrested!

  We Scattered!

  Some of us were on bicycles and some of us (like me) were on foot. And without planning it, we all took off in different directions. By the time the lawman got back to our location we were heading off into the woods on both sides of the road, where his car could not follow. The Deputy gave up on us and turned around once more. He floored his gas pedal and shot down the road trying to catch up with the Sheriff.

  Of course, I did not know this at the time. I was too busy running through a pine thicket and trying not to pee in my pants. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I slowed down until I was halfway home.

  We found out what the Deputy Sheriff did later, from Freddie. Poor Freddie was still stuck in the top of the Tulip Poplar, praying the lawmen did not look up!

  For the next several hours we straggled into the tree house one by one. We had no idea if anybody had been caught. So, it was a huge relief when the last Ranger, in this case Charlie, came limping in. He was soaking wet and his face was scratched and bleeding. Charlie explained it was not until he coasted to a stop and pulled off his helmet that he heard the Sheriff’s siren. Realizing he was being pursued, he pushed off the road and went careening down a small hillside and directly into blackberry thicket. He threw himself into the thorny cover just as Sheriff Killdeer went shooting past.

  His flight suit protected him from most of the thorns but his face looked like he had been in a cat fight. He stashed the bike and helmet and made his way through the underbrush all the way home. He was limping because he twisted his ankle when he tripped on a exposed huckleberry root. But, he managed to make it back without being apprehended.

  “I understand the limp and the scratches,” said Shad. “But why are you all wet?”

  “Well, at one point I heard a dog barking. I was afraid they had brought in a K-9 unit to track me down. So, I ran to the river and sloshed a couple hundred yards downstream
so they would lose my scent.”

  That broke the tension. We laughed at the thought of Charlie splashing down the river like he escaped from a chain gang. We also laughed at ourselves because we realized that we probably overreacted and the FBI was not going to put us on their most wanted list.

  Finally Bogdon spoke up, “Well, at least the Rocket bike was a success. According to my calculations Charlie went from 0 to 60, in just 5.4 seconds. And, he topped out at 67 miles per hour.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” replied Charlie. “But, I don’t know how many more successes I can handle.”

  We laughed at Charlie and at ourselves once more. Then, we agreed it was time to lay low. So, the Granite Falls Rangers officially shutdown the Project Rocket Bike. That evening after it got dark, we recovered the bike and helmet. And, we moved those pieces, along with a half dozen extra combustion chambers already loaded with tar, to the bat cave.

  Standing out front of the shelter, we bled off the remaining nitrous oxide from the tank. Then, we rolled the bike inside and lowered the big sliding garage door.

  With the bat cave locked up and the alarm set, we headed home on foot and spoke very little along the way. I think we were all pretty sad about saying good bye to the rocket bike. As the garage door came down we felt like we were closing the door on a terrific opportunity.

  Of all the Rangers, Freddie was taking the shut down particularly hard. Because of his short little legs, all of his life he had been one of the slowest kids in school. So the rocket bike had him dreaming of a new speed record and a chance to become ‘Freddie the Rocket Boy’.

  Charlie tried to brighten Freddie up by offering him two votes in our next weekly Ranger meeting. But, that did not have much effect. Finally, Toby tried his hand at raising our dampened spirits.

  “Cheer up guys,” Toby suggested. “After all, it’s official now.”

  “What’s official?” I asked.

  “Well, from this day forward, we are officially ‘Rocket Scientists’,” Toby proclaimed. “We are bona fide, built one ourselves, Rocket Scientists.”