by Chris Hawley
CHAPTER TWO
THE GOOD SHIP ‘SILVER STREAK’
The long holidays had arrived. Mum and Dad were never very keen on beach holidays. Both of them always found something to do. Most of my friends were going away and it would give me time and privacy to concentrate on my dream project.
I worked like a lunatic, putting in all the hours I could. I had to help my parents sometimes but I knew that was my duty and I didn’t mind. The days were long and the weather warm.
The spaceship took shape. Sometimes Dad would put his head round the door of the shed and enquire what I was doing, as if he didn’t know. I would say that I was building something, which was quite obvious to anyone with eyes in their head. He was happy that I had found something interesting to do during the holidays.
After two weeks of hard work, the spaceship itself was ready. It hardly looked as good as those American ones I had seen on the television but I had made it all by myself. The inside was fitted out for maximum comfort, with a padded bucket seat that could be adjusted. Even the floor was carpeted from a piece of old carpet I found in the loft. Nor had I neglected fuel for my body. I had carefully selected all the food with maximum nutritional value. All these were stored carefully so that they would not float about once we were outside the Earth’s atmosphere. I was satisfied that I would not lack any material comfort on my long journey. Our science teacher had told us that Mars was many millions of miles away from the Earth so I calculated the journey would take weeks and I doubted I would be in time for the beginning of term. Well, my experiences in space would be worth more than dry old school lessons.
The control panel was made out of several old computer keyboards, connected to the controls by metres of copper wire, which had been left behind by the electricians when they rewired the house.
All that remained was to fit the motor. I must admit that this was the hardest part of all. The motor had to be really well fixed to avoid it coming loose during the stress of blast off and re-entry into the atmosphere. I thought my steering invention was very neat. The engine was mounted on a swivel, operated from the control panel in front of me. I decided that the petrol tank was not sufficiently big to hold enough fuel for the journey to Mars, so I modified an old water container, hoping it would not be too heavy during liftoff.
I turned my attention to my space suit. I went to the library and read about what it was like on Mars. No water, the book said, and cold too. So a warm space suit was important. There was a picture in the book of an astronaut, wearing a globe on his head that looked like a fish bowl. I thought of the one standing on the shelf in the shed. I felt guilty every time I saw it and remembered killing the goldfish by overfeeding them. Why don’t I wear it on my way to Mars: their old home would have a purpose in life again and they would not have died in vain? I chuckled to myself at the idea of wearing a fish bowl on my head. I might even frighten some Martians!
What to do about water? I was already taking a lot of petrol, which weighed a lot. But, I thought, all those Martians who lived there must have learned a long time ago how to make water. I would ask someone as soon as I arrived. They are very kind people, I was sure of that. Just take water for the journey and hope for the best, said the optimist in me. The pessimist in me was defeated and so that was what I decided.
Finally, the great day was upon me. The spaceship was complete and ready for testing. I used all the money I had saved from my pocket money over the past six months to buy petrol, new sparkplugs and a secondhand safety belt.
One final thing: what to call the spaceship? I pondered for an hour before coming up with a name I liked. ‘Silver Streak,’ that’s what she’ll be called! So ‘Silver Streak’ she became. I painted the name carefully, but not very neatly, on her side and held an emotional naming ceremony, in which I broke a bottle of sparkling mineral water against the side, as I had seen done when ships are launched. And she is a ship of sorts, I thought. ‘May God protect her and all who sail in her!’