by Karen Wolff
The tank that held ten gallons of gas was under the front seat with a dipstick to measure the level. A spare tire was mounted on the rear, and under the back seat was a boxed set of tools with everything we’d need to change a flat and more. I recognized the jack and tire wrench painted black and spanking new. It was so dark I could scarcely see, but here came Gram with a lantern, her curiosity having gotten the better of her.
Finally I opened the hood. “Just look at that,” I said in awe. “It’s beautiful.” And it was. Every part clean, with a purpose, and perfectly made.
“I don’t have any idea what I’m looking at. Are those the pistons?” she asked.
I didn’t know any more than she did, but I said, “Sure are.”
She looked at it for a minute, then said, “Let’s eat supper. This’ll keep till tomorrow.”
We went inside and sat down to our meal while Granddad described the haggling over the price.
“I offered him $269, but he wanted to charge me $65 more for the electric ignition. I told him I’d walk away from it, and we went back and forth a few more times. Finally we settled on $289, and he filled up the gas tank.”
“What’s that worth?” Gram asked.
“About two, two and a half bucks,” Ty said.
“Seems like you came out all right, Alfie.”
“I dunno,” he said. “I still can’t get over it. Most money I ever spent on anything in my life.”
Ty and I couldn’t resist visiting the new car again before we went to bed. Gram threatened us with our lives if we attempted to drive that night. We took a lantern, and I begged Ty to show me how to start the engine.
“First thing is to turn the key to the left for the battery and push the spark lever all the way up. That’s the little rod attached to the left side of the steering wheel. Then push the throttle down about a quarter of the way.” He pointed to another rod on the right side of the steering wheel.
“Okay,” I said. “That’s easy.”
“Now jump out and grab the crank. Remember to crank clockwise.”
I got down and put my right hand on the crank.
“No,” he yelled. You have to crank with your left hand, Harry, ‘cause if the engine backfires, that crank’ll spin around counterclockwise and break your arm.”
I was clumsy and tried the crank several times before the car started, but I finally got it going.
“Now get back in, and turn the key to the right for the engine, and push the spark lever down.” It was so complicated, I had to try over and over before I could coordinate everything. Finally I managed it, and then! Oh how I itched to drive down the road somewhere, anywhere at all.
“There’s a whole lot more to learn,” Ty said as he explained the clutch pedal, but he thought it’d be easier once we had the car in motion. I hated to quit, but it was dark, and Gram would be after us if we didn’t come in. I wanted to try one more thing. With the engine running, I turned on the headlights and hopped out to see what they looked like. Wow! They were powerful! That gave me an idea.
With that image in my head, I tackled my homework assignment for Mrs. Kleinsasser. I wrote:
The headlights were like the eyes of an owl in the dark.
I thought about the car and was able to come up with a couple more sentences.
A Ford horn was a donkey’s hee-haw.
The spoked wheels were like the whirling pinwheels we got at the fair.
The raised hood was a …
And then I got so sleepy I couldn’t think anymore. I’d finish this assignment tomorrow.
AT FIRST TY and I were forbidden to drive unless Granddad or Gram were with us, but it wasn’t long before they realized they didn’t know anything about cars, and they had to depend on us. I didn’t know much either, but I acted like I did, and they believed it. It made me feel grown up.
We did our best to teach Granddad to drive, but he never got the hang of it. He wasn’t nimble enough with his bad leg to jump in and out of the car to start it, and the clutch flummoxed him every time. If he did get going, the car would jerk forward too fast. Then he’d brake hard, and the engine would die. He gave it up without ever admitting he had. Whenever he wanted to go somewhere, one of us took him. I didn’t mind because it was just plain fun for me. It took a long time before the novelty of driving wore off. I’m not sure it ever did.
Gram was the biggest surprise. She was crazy about riding in the car. We went to town on Saturday nights because she wanted to go. Granddad was happy to stay home and mind the store. We’d clean up right after supper and head to Beaverton. Gram would wander through the general store, looking things over, not buying much, maybe some thread and sewing notions, but whatever she saw was a topic of conversation for the whole next week, especially the prices. I’d meet up with friends from school, and we usually finished the evening with ice cream at Mobley’s Cafe.
Ty and I tried our best to get Dad to go for a ride, but he refused. “I’ve ridden plenty,” he’d say. “I don’t need to go riding around in Alfie’s new car like somebody’s poor relation.” He was so tiresome anymore that it was easier just to forget about him and get on with life.
Before long Gram and Granddad loosened the reins and let us take the car without them. Ty and I went to Jefferson to see Polly and Vince, and I drove. I felt sinfully proud when I pulled up to their house and they came outside to admire the car. Their little girl, Mary Jo, was two years old, and Polly was expecting again. She was tickled to see us, and we had a long visit. Vince gave us a mess of catfish to take home to Gram.
What I wanted most of all was to take Carol Ann on a date in the car, but her mother put her foot down and wouldn’t let her go.
“What’s the matter?” I said. “Doesn’t she trust my driving?”
“It’s not your driving, Harry. That’s not the problem.” Carol Ann laughed. “She’s afraid you’ll use the arm heater.”
“What’s an arm heater?”
“That’s when you put your arm around your girl to keep her warm.”
I grumbled, and I wondered how Mrs. Bellwood was able to read my thoughts. How did she know what I had in mind? I wasn’t sure myself.
The changes the car brought to our lives crept up on us almost unawares. If we’d stopped to think about it, we’d have seen how dependent we’d become on that wonderful contraption. We could go places, buy things if we had the money, visit people, see the world. I hadn’t been to Chicago or California yet, but somehow I knew my life was bigger than it had been before. Maybe my life had started.
I DREAMED OF DRIVING the new car to school to show it off to my friends and let them see me driving it. I imagined what they would say. Some would be admiring, some jealous, and I figured I’d feel grand. But Gram wouldn’t hear of it as long as Mr. Bellwood was available to give me a ride.
My chance finally came on the last day of school. We’d be dismissed after our picnic lunch, and Mr. Bellwood couldn’t pick us up that early, so Carol Ann was to ride home with me. It was my first time to drive alone without Ty. I was nervous, but mostly just thrilled, hoping that nothing would go wrong, no flat tire or stalled engine.
Gram gave me a whole bushel of warnings and cautions, and then I heard them all over again from Mrs. Bellwood.
“Are you sure you have enough gas?”
“Don’t go too fast. You don’t have to hurry.”
“Watch that bend where Abe Pollock lets his cattle cross.”
You’d have thought I was leaving for Los Angeles, but I listened, not letting on how jittery I felt, how impatient I was to get going.
Once I got out on the road, I drove carefully, and when I reached the school without calamity, I let out a big breath of relief. I parked in front trying my best to look casual, like driving was something I did every day of my life. In no time, the boys gathered around to admire the Model T.
“When did you get a car, Harry? Is it yours?” Bucky said. “I wish we’d get one. Dad says maybe we will next fall.”
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br /> Sam said, “Who taught you to drive, Harry? Could you teach me?”
“I wouldn’t let him teach me,” Frankie Halverson said, a sour look on his face. As usual, he hung back at the edges of the group, and most everyone ignored him.
The others walked around, touching the shiny finish, admiring the headlights, the slanted windshield with its little wiper, asking about the spark lever and the clutch. I’d never felt prouder in my life as I shoved the key into my pocket and tried to answer their questions. I’m pretty sure I strutted as I went inside with them for our last classes.
The teachers were as cheerful as we were about seeing the last of us for a while. We didn’t do any serious work. They let us talk and kid around, and they joined in too. We cleaned out our desks and cloakrooms, then helped neaten up the classrooms. We took down pictures and posters, got rid of trash, and washed the blackboards. When the moment came for us to get our report cards, I felt a small twist of worry. What if somebody gave me a failing grade? I thought I’d done all right, but maybe I was in for a surprise.
But I worried for nothing. I’d managed to finish the ninth grade with an A in algebra, a B in English, and two C’s. Mr. Lyman had even written a few words saying how pleased he was that my deportment had improved over the year. All right. Now I wanted to have some fun.
We went outdoors to a picnic in the schoolyard, and Mr. Hummel saw to it that we had lots of games and races. Right in the middle of it, I spied Mrs. Carmichael hanging out laundry in her back yard with baby McDermott toddling around. I hadn’t planned to do it, but I left the school grounds and went into her yard. Her eyes widened with apprehension. We hadn’t seen each other since my clumsy apology last fall.
“Hi,” I said. “McDermott is really getting big. Would it be all right if I held him up to the fence for all the kids to see? I’ll be really careful with him.”
She seemed uncertain but finally agreed, “Well, I…I guess it’d be all right.”
I swooped up the little boy and called to my friends. “Look who I’ve got.” Everyone cheered and clapped. They came running to the fence, and I thought the racket would make him bawl. But he just grinned a slobbery grin and stretched his arms out to them.
“He’s darling. Let me have him,” Ada Sue said. I turned around to look at Mrs. Carmichael. She nodded, so I handed McDermott over the fence. The girls all had a turn holding him, tickling him, and talking baby talk to him until he decided he’d had enough. His mouth turned down, and he started to whimper, so they passed him back to his mother. He buried his face in her shoulder and then peeked at me, his thumb in his mouth.
“Mrs. Carmichael, I’m really sorry about what I did last fall,” I said. “It was mean, and it makes me feel like a fool now. I wish I’d never done it.”
She took some time before she said anything. Then she smiled. “Thanks for saying that, Harry. It was a hard time for me with my husband laid up and all. I’m not too proud of my own behavior back then either. I’d like to forget about the whole thing.”
We didn’t have much else to say, so I shook her hand and said, “Bye, McDermott,” waved, and went back to the picnic, feeling like I’d finished with that piece of mischief.
Carol Ann and I gathered up our school things and loaded them in the Ford. I started the car and let it idle for a few minutes. She climbed in, and we were about to leave for home when Frankie Halverson walked over with the usual smirk on his face. He kicked the front tire.
“How’d you get the money for the car, Harry? Did you get insurance after your store got hit?” His voice was unpleasant, taunting.
“No, we didn’t. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“It doesn’t make sense to me. The Klan tried to burn you out, and here you are with a new Ford. Some people I know had to pay big fines, but you got a new car.”
“That’s not my concern, Frank, so just shut up, will ya?”
“You better look out, Harry. They’re gonna try again. They’re gonna get your store and that boozy grandfather of yours.”
My blood rose hot. I wanted to punch him in his fat, pudgy face. He was nothing but flab, and I knew I could take him. I started to jump out, but Carol Ann put her hand on my arm.
“Don’t do anything, Harry. It’ll just make him worse.”
It was all I could do to let Frank’s words pass. My hands gripped the steering wheel, and hatred seethed through my body.
“I want to kill him,” I muttered.
“Don’t let him get to you, Harry. He’s just trying to be a big shot.”
I took some deep breaths and stared straight ahead, away from Frankie. After a minute, I put the car in gear. It bucked a couple of times. Oh God. Would I have to get out and start it again? Be embarrassed in front of him? But that blessed machine kept going, and we pulled away.
Carol Ann and I didn’t say anything until we got out of town, and my breathing slowed down. Frankie’s stupid meanness had sure taken the shine off our afternoon.
“What was he talking about,” she asked, “when he said someone had paid a fine?”
“I don’t know for sure, but you remember when Sheriff Beaubien told us about that KKK gang burning crosses down by Jefferson?. They got arrested and went to court. He’s pretty sure it was the same bunch that attacked our store, but there’s no proof. When Frank bragged about it at school, the sheriff figured out that his dad was a member.”
She was quiet for a few minutes as she thought that over. I was calmer now and slowed down to make the trip last a little longer.
“I hope they don’t come back,” she said.
“They won’t,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “Gram says they’re too yellow.”
That seemed to settle it for her, and she talked about how nice it was to be outside in the middle of the day, out of school for a few months. We laughed about Mrs. Carmichael and McDermott.
“I love little kids like that,” she said. “I’m going to take care of the Hubbard twins in the afternoons this summer. Their mother has her hands full, so I’m going to help her out. But how about you? Are you going to start right away at the rink?”
“It doesn’t open ‘til next weekend, so I have a little time. I’ll have to work in the store every morning, but I’ll make some cash money at the skating rink.”
“Good for you.”
“Russ got a full-time job as a butcher’s helper in Portlandville, and Harold’s dad is putting him to work at his new gas station in Beaverton. So I’ll be the second boy after Sam this summer.”
I took one hand off the wheel and covered hers with mine. I risked a look away from the road for a few seconds. She was so beautiful, her blue eyes wide and happy. “Are you going to come skating when I’m at work? Let me put on your skates?”
“Maybe. I suppose I might.”
“I want to spend time with you this summer,” I said. “I want to take you to a movie, or a dance. Do you think your mother would stand still for that?”
“I don’t know, Harry. So far, she hasn’t been willing, but I can ask again.”
“Doesn’t she know you’re almost fifteen? It’s time for her to let go.”
She giggled. “I think she knows how old I am, Harry.”
“I can’t hardly stand it, Carol Ann. I’ve never even been able to dance with you.” I pulled her nearer to me, and she didn’t object. I wanted to put my arm around her, but worried too much about my driving to risk it. We continued to bump along, and it tickled me that every bounce seemed to bring her closer.
“I’d like that too, Harry. Maybe if we can think up a special occasion, I can talk her into it. Or if we go with another couple.”
As we drove up to her house, she scooted back to her side of the car. “I think the way you handled Frankie was good, Harry. You were mad, but I’m proud you didn’t get in a fight with him. It wouldn’t have been worth it.”
“I guess you’re right.”
I wasn’t thinking about Frankie just then. What I wa
nted was to tell her she was my sweetheart. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and kiss the sweet place beneath her pink ear lobe. I thought I’d bust with frustration. When would I get my chance? I sighed as she got out. It sure wasn’t going to be today.
But she had given me an idea. I knew Russ and Darlene would go out with us, and Russ would figure out how to give us some privacy. I drove away with that happy prospect in mind.
That night over the supper table I told what Frank had said at school about the Klan coming after us again.
“They better not,” Gram said. “People won’t stand for it.”
“I don’t know, Bess. They might try it again,” Granddad said. “I’ve been thinking maybe we need to get another dog. A good watch dog that could stay in the store all night. Not one like Buster who’d rather lick your hand than bite it.”
Buster. My throat tightened up. If he were here now, he’d be waiting under the table, ready to follow me wherever I went. Ready to play ball or just be my pal. Granddad could get a new dog if he wanted, but it would never be the same.
“I wonder when the high line will come through,” Gram sighed. “If we had electricity, we could light up the store, and that’d be enough to scare them off.”
“It’ll just be another bill to pay when we get electricity,” Granddad said.
“You sound like an old fogey,” Gram said, “but until we get it, I think it’s a good idea to find another dog.”
And that’s how Bruno came to live with us. He was a stout-chested fellow, black and white with a head the size of a basketball. We never did know what breed he was, but he had an arrogant way about him and a bark they could have heard in Sioux City. It didn’t take him long to make himself comfortable behind the counter at the store where we had to step over him every time we went to the icebox. He had a way of looking at us that said, “You are an inconvenient nuisance. I’ve decided to let you pass, but I’m not about to move out of the way.”
