“No.”
“It’s three A.M. Noise ordinance starts at ten o’clock at night, you’re five hours past that. The fire’s fine but you need to either keep it quiet or call it quits.”
“Yes sir,” Vikki replies saluting him. I chuckle and he brings out his little pink pad of papers. We all get up laughing. Vikki and Ed head into the house while I wait for the noise ordnance violation.
“Have a good night. And keep it quiet, or I’ll have to be back,” he says handing me the citation.
“Have a good one,” I tell him as he walks away. Turning back toward the fire I walk to the hose and turn it on. The steam bellows as I douse away the flames and embers until they go silent. Then I turn off the water and head back inside to the party.
Inside we bust out a deck of cards and play for about another forty minutes until we run out of tales to tell. Ed walks out into the living room and crashes on the couch. His snoring lets us know that he was done for the night and out cold.
Taking the only bottle of Oregon Moscato I had in the house, I hand it to Vikki to pop the cork while I search for glasses. Having nothing fancy, we settle on plain glasses from the cupboard and start to finish our night with the sweet wine. There was nothing left to say so we just sip and giggle at the table until it was gone.
Vikki was the only woman left in the world I trusted, and I was more than ready for bed. Tonight, I couldn’t face those sheets alone. I got up and motioned for her to follow. We went into the bedroom, and I was the first to lay down on the bed. Vikki was careful not to press any boundaries and slowly approached from her side. I don’t recall ever being with her, but I can’t say for sure with my memory. I think we’ve done this before though because she knew exactly what I needed. Her hips came to rest alongside the back of my legs, and her arm came around my side and rested on my chest. I held onto her hand and buried my head into the pillow.
“Good night,” she whispered behind me half asleep.
“Good night,” I respond. My head spins from the liquor, and I lose myself to the late night.
8
Walking through the forest, the air is clear. Hadley is holding my hand and guiding me along the dirt path that lay before us.
“Matt, get back over here and stay on the path,” he had run over to a nearby tree and started climbing. Begrudgingly he gets down and rejoins us. It has to be hard for kids to follow so much order these days. Unable to even run through the woods without their parents worrying about the park rangers making a fuss.
Walking silently, we pause at every crunch of leaves and branch snapping to look for the little critter making the sound. It was normally just a chipmunk or squirrel, but we keep hoping to come across a deer as they seek refuge here away from the local hunters.
All the state land we were exploring was protected, either for some kind of rare land formation, wetland animals, or rare bird that only nests here. Along the path about every fifty yards or so was a new post to learn something from. The information on the next one was about the over two hundred year maple tree it was posted in front of. It went over how tall maples get, where they’re commonly found, and a short history of syrup. This was the typical display, but it gave me a little break from walking the three mile circle we were on.
You could hear drops amongst the leaves. Rain was coming, but we would be mostly protected from the canopy above. My heart is in nature, and I try to expose the kids to it whenever I could. As we walked along, the ground began to moisten and the dirt path began to collect on our shoes. The stickiness of our feet began to make a popping sound as we marched along and my hopes of a deer faded.
Ahead, Matt stopped on the top of the next hill. Excited, Hadley and I picked up our pace to see the deer we knew was there. Getting to Matt, we slow down and begin to drag our feet the rest of the way to avoid making the popping noises and scaring it off.
There were no deer but, instead, a turkey stood in the middle of the path. The tom stared at the three of us before fanning out its feathers for an exuberant display. Since we all got to see the bird Matt, of course, had to start goofing off.
“Gobble, gobble,” he tried to imitate the bird and even flapped his arms and cocked his head. Terrified, the poor thing took off flying about fifteen feet high through the air to roost somewhere beyond our view.
We walked up to where the turkey was and were just staring at its footprints until we got bored and moved on. The rain was really starting to come down now and began to seep through the trees and onto us. Plus, every valley we walked through had a small temporary stream on the bottom that we had to jump over. Matt would always lead taking the first jump, followed by Hadley, and then me. When I landed after the second muddy stream, my feet slipped from under me, and I landed square on my hip. The pain shot up my back but just as quickly dissipated with adrenaline as I watched my kids point and laugh at my embarrassment. I started laughing along with them and then quickly reached out for Matt’s ankle to grab hold. Missing, I planted my stomach into the mud sheet beneath me, and they laughed even harder.
Now soaking, I was worried about the clothes staining so I told myself screw it and laid down in the flowing waters. I used the semi clean stream to help flood away the mud on me, like a natural washing machine and then once satisfied returned to my feet, sopping wet.
Halfway through our walk we come to the usual fork in the road. The left circled back the last 1.5 miles but the right continued on for another seven. The kids started walking to the left down the short path, but I ignored them and continued down the right path.
“Dad, where are you going, the truck’s this way.” said Hadley.
“I know, but I’m going this way.” They stand there staring at me in disbelief that I would do an additional seven miles, but I keep walking. It took to the point where they could no longer see me when they figured out I was serious and came jogging after me.
Both of the kids seemed really irritated that we were going this way and acted as if it were some kind of punishment for laughing at me. That was just a good coincidence, because I already had plans this way today; Just trying to mix things up a little bit for them. It was a shame it was raining, but the water was cool and would make the next leg of the trip that much more memorable.
It only took about a half mile to reach my goal, a small pedestrian bridge going over the river that eventually ran through town. I walk to the center of the bridge and stand there in the rain, staring out over the river. The kids joined me on the bridge and looked in the direction that I was, but there was nothing over there. It was just a ruse.
Both of them stayed there staring off trying to figure out what I was looking at as I walked back to the end of the bridge and then quickly ducked underneath it when they weren’t looking at me.
“Dad! Dad!” Matt was calling. Ignoring Matt’s calls, I pushed the green canoe out from under the bridge that I had paddled there the day before. A couple of strokes of the paddle, and I was out from under the bridge and back into their view.
“Where did you get that? Is that ours?” Hadley shouted with an inquisitive tone. I let them ponder as I beach it just a few yards downstream for them to come and board. I pick the steepest part of the shore to bank it. Sure enough as the two of them approached the canoe they lost their footing on the bank and lined themselves with mud. Now it was my turn to laugh.
“Get in that river and clean yourselves off before gettin’ in my boat,” I tell them laughingly. Matt and Hadley wade to the middle of the river, only waist deep for them, and dunk themselves while brushing off the mud they had just acquired. They waddle back over to the bank and climb in where I had beached the canoe.
I hand Matt a paddle behind me and then Hadley the other in front and point downstream.
“No point in going against the current. Follow the flow,” I tell them. We leisurely make our way down the river. I watch as the two are forced to work in conjunction with one another, hopefully strengthening their bond. I kinda felt like a third
wheel, but I was ready if either began to tire.
The rain was lightening up, and the sprinkles would scatter themselves around us. I would watch the droplets hit the water and then make their ripples with a small drop raising up and then reentering the river from the center where it had crashed.
We are a mile downstream now and the sun is coming out. It will still be a while before we begin to dry when Matt spots it first.
“Look behind us,” he says. We turn around carefully so as not to capsize our little craft to see the radiance of what Matt had found. A double rainbow was clearly reaching up over the trees back where we had started our little river journey. We stare in amazement for a minute until the canoe suddenly comes to a jarring halt.
While we were staring off the river had taken us and ran us aground into a nearby bend. I reach for Hadley’s paddle and she hands it back to me. I force the paddle straight down and ground it into the rubble below then give a huge push-off backwards. We are now freed.
Keeping the paddle for a while I let Hadley relax and stare at the double rainbow as Matt and I steer our drifting downstream, careful now not to hit shore again. The river begins to shallow, and we see some small rapids ahead. We only get a few more feet before we start rubbing bottom and come grinding to a halt.
The three of us get out of the canoe and Matt and I place our paddles inside before lifting the craft and walking it forward along the ankle deep water until we are through and able to float again. From there the rest of the journey takes about four hours to reach the mouth of the river. We saw several hawks nesting along the way but again, no deer.
Soon we are out on the great lake and the kids are asking which way to go. The waves are only about a foot high and fairly manageable but still occasionally crest over the bow. I point down the shoreline to where the truck is parked beside the tree line at the beach parking lot.
“Oh, I can see it!” Hadley exclaims pointing to the truck. She turns around and takes the paddle back from me and then goes straight to her stroke.
We don’t paddle all the way back as the waves had pushed us against the beach. We got out and used the paddles as lines to pull the canoe along the shoreline next to us. Fifteen minutes go by and we reach the beach in front of the truck. Exhausted, we half pull the canoe out and then drop to the sand. Laying there we wait for the sun to slowly warm and dry us off, but it never does. The fiery ball keeps hiding itself behind clouds and the relief we were looking for never comes.
The two kids are the first to get up and head to the truck, leaving me behind with the canoe. I drag it up behind me through the resistant sand and Matt finally gets out of the truck to help only when I have finished making it all the way there.
Together we each take an end and lay it upside down in the bed. I toss him some line.
“You get to tie it down,” I tell him. Standing there I watch him use the bed anchors to zig-zag the line across the canoe. He inches down the line and finishes it off with a couple of half hitches, good choice.
Climbing into the truck we were way beyond lunch time. All I had was a bag of beef jerky in the glove compartment, and I pulled it out for the two of them. Even in the truck I begin getting chills from the still wet clothing.
I roll over to an empty bed and an open window. The air is freezing this morning and I get up to close the window and notice the frost sheathing all the grass in sight.
Vikki must have gone off to work around five and opened the window to try and tell me the world is safe. The window didn’t give me much comfort but her late night and little sleep told me all I needed to get by.
Ed was still passed out in the living room. Contemplating on whether or not to wake him I decided not to, as it was a Sunday morning and the only day he closed his shop for the week.
Walking to the kitchen, I grab the dark brew and begin to make a pot. The aroma gets to Ed and he started to stir but still has yet to get up. Waiting for the pot to brew is grueling. To pass the time I throw on a hoodie and head outside for a smoke. The streets were quiet except for an occasional old car passing on their way to early mass. Fog was in the air, and I couldn’t see the school beyond the road, probably best that way for now.
Heading back in, I pour my never washed mug and head back out to the garage. I sit my cup down on the hood of the truck and open the old manual door. The round tail lights are distinct and unmistakeable. With the hood still open I walk around with my joe and place it on the workshop counter. The big V-8 stared right at me and made my muscles tense at the thought of all that power under my control. I grab a rag and some metal shine and begin to polish the motor.
The shine formula is a potent secret I learned from the Navy, and it ate through rubber gloves like hell so I tossed on some thick wool gloves over the latex. My hands started to sweat as I made my applications in tiny circles and continued rubbing the circles more and more rapidly raising the heat until the polish was dissolved and all that was left was my reflection. Continuing the process I work my way around the block trying to get it to a mirror finish.
I had about an hour to myself before Ed dragged himself in. He loves old cars but really couldn’t work on them anymore. Arthritis came right along for the ride when he turned sixty and many of his hobbies went away with it.
If you would go over to Ed’s house and into his basement you would find a world of models and wonder. He had made dozens of planes from kit or scratch by his own design including a fully-functioning Navy fighter Jet, ONLY about five feet across though. After all, he did have to carry it up and down from his basement and fit it through the doors anytime he wanted to fly.
Ed’s eyes were never perfect and therefore was not eligible to get his pilot’s license. His love for the air never ceased, and he found a way to continue his dreams of being a pilot.
Today though he was the head of my pit crew.
With Ed here I could finally run her and get it tuned. He just had the ear for those kinds of things. Taking a screwdriver I set the idle and high speed needles to their recommend factory positions then opened the driver side door. I turned on the motor, and it purred to life. I walked over to Ed to watch it warm up and traded my coffee in for a beer to celebrate the old girl.
It takes about five minutes to warm up, much of the time I’m under the hood on the throttle cable keeping it revved up about half way to warm her up faster.
Ed instructs me to let it idle, and I do so. I grab the screwdriver and place it on the idle screw awaiting his orders to come.
“Half a turn open, eighth turn close, reset, eighth turn open, reset, one third turn close, hold it there, yeah there.” She purrs like a fined tuned pony but we’re only half way done. I switch the screwdriver to the high speed mixture screw and wait for his commands after I had throttled up and down a few times. The high speed setting takes us several attempts and about forty minutes go by before Ed becomes satisfied.
Ed gets off his chair now and walks over to the car. I take off the protective skirt I had around the engine bay so I could lean in without scratching it and then motion for Ed to get into the driver’s seat. He grins and happily obliges. Ed revs up, and I know we’re going to piss off at least one neighbor with that throaty pipe. While Ed is preoccupied, I jump in the truck and park it out in the road.
Coming back into the garage I get to the passenger side of the care and hop in closing the door behind me. Ed stares at me while I put my seatbelt on.
“You gonna take it for a spin or what old man?” I ask him. Ed stands up and walks in front of the car. He then closes the hood. Yeah, that would have helped if I did that first. Ed comes back and throws himself in like a seventeen year old going to prom.
Hitting the clutch, Ed puts the car in reverse and we creep out the drive. The sun is fully out now and has baked away all the fog, but some dew remains from the frost making the roads and tires slick.
Ed hits the accelerator at the stop sign and accidentally does a small burn out. We lurch forward and laugh. He evens
out his pressure and we begin our Sunday drive through town. Of course Ed has to drive by all the ten churches we have to try and show off to any of his old buddies that may be keeping an eye out for the throaty beast that could be heard from a mile away.
The only thing the car needs now is a good set of locomotive air horns hidden under the trunk to knock the socks off of anyone that doesn’t think she’s beautiful.
Ed finishes his lap through town and pulls into the lot of the shop and gets out. I get out after him.
“Uh,uh. Not today Ed, Sunday,” I tell him walking over to the driver’s seat. He stares for a moment at the door then walks back and slips into where I had just been seated.
Careful not to throw any rocks from the gravel onto my red paint job I exit the lot and head straight for my destination. I can cruise all the rest of the day around town, but I need to make one stop first.
Before I can get around the corner and park she’s already waiting outside, having a smoke, probably coincidence. It doesn’t matter though. I round that corner and Vikki runs out into the middle of the road jumping up and down. Her thrill excites me, and I put her in park right there in the middle of the street and get out.
“No way you took that out. She sounds great, Ed help you tune it?” asks Vikki.
“Sure did. I pop the hood and reach into the engine compartment putting my finger on the throttle body and rev it up for her.
“Damn, when you taking me out?” she asks.
“Not so fast girl. It’s her first time out in two years. Let her get used to the road for a while first.” Vikki looks at me and closes the hood. She puts on this sexy look and stretches herself across the hood. I fumble for my phone and take it out to snap some pictures. Going through a series of poses I snap them all. They’ll be perfect pin-ups in the garage once I get them printed and blown up. I will probably keep one in the car too and a copy for Vikki of course. She unbuttons the top of her waitress blouse, and I snap a few more pictures before a car pulls up behind me and starts honking. Vikki shrugs and does her sexy walk back into the diner.
A Father's Dreams Page 9