superbuickguy
Explorer
Rick Sieman is a renown motorcycle racer and, as you will see (if you've never read the Wanderers while they were published in Offroad magazine) a very good writer. If you enjoyed what you read, do buy a copy of his CD on http://superhunky.com/
By way of introduction Carl is retired Navy, and Emma is his very patient wife. They travel the country in a pretty stout Suburban on 44s with a 454. It's fiction(ish).
THE WANDERERS #8
SHINE ON HARVEST MOON – PT 1
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, they had just spent a consid¬erable amount of time with cranky old Uncle Howard in Ohio. Even though Carl had lost a trail-driving bet with Uncle Howard, he managed to gain a dog; specifically, he found a mangy mutt, named him Ace the Wonder Dog, and made him a permanent part of their traveling road (and off road) show.
***
We join them now, as The Whale heads south on Interstate 77. Route 77 wanders through Canton, Marietta and farther south into West Virginia via Charleston.
The Whale lumbered through Beckley and eventually into Blue¬field at the base of the Great Smoky Mountains. The massive mountain range loomed through a slight mist, majestic enough in its own right to stand up to anything Europe had to offer.
Carl looked up ahead, as the beautiful highway climbed up and up and up. Emma sighed. "Isn't it beautiful, Carl? Sort of takes your breath away!"
"Yup. Prettier 'n a gutted deer on the hood of a pickup truck."
Emma shuddered. "Carl, you certainly do have a way with words."
"Yeh, I do, don't I? Anyways, why don't you whip out that East Coast map and see how far it is to East Carolina?"
"You mean North Carolina, don't you!"
"That's what I said. You got wax in your ears, woman?"
Emma sighed again. "Well, we have to cross the mountains, then the first big city in North Carolina is Winston-Salem. Carl, would you mind telling me just exactly where we're heading? Or am I supposed to guess?"
"Here's the deal. North Carolina is tobacco country and one of the guys at that Boron gas station back in Ohio was telling me that you could get tobacco products down there real cheap. So I figure I could save a bundle and stock up on some chew. My favor¬ite brand of chewing tobacco is actually made at a plant some¬where south of Fayetteville. Yes sir, Mule Butt Chewing Tobacco is grown, harvested and processed in a little town by the name of Harvest Moon. Boy, talking about chewing tobacco is making my mouth water. Think I'll treat myself to a plug."
Emma started to say something, but thought better of it and instead grabbed a copy of People Magazine and started to read an article about Cher running off with the entire backfield of the Green Bay Packers. After all, Carl did stop smoking those horri¬ble green cigars. Still, that habit of his of spitting out the ...
Splat! Carl ejected a wad of juice out of the window of The Whale with deadly accuracy and blasted a roadside sign dead center. Yet another mist of tobacco juice wafted back to stain the driver's side of The Whale. A constant smile creased Carl's face and he turned to Emma: "Hey, honey pot, here we are in the Rockies, the home of Blue Grass music. See if you can get some of it on the radio."
"You mean Smokies, dear."
"Yeh, that's what I said."
Emma fiddled with the dials of the impressive sound system, not really sure of what she was doing. In the back of her brain, she had this small fear of hitting the wrong button and getting ejected through the - roof like one of those fighter pilots.
Eventually she stumbled on a control that changed the sta¬tions:
"... and that was Fester Dank and the Frog Mountain Boys playin' "I Met Her Under The Haystack And Got Stuck On The Pitchfork Of Love: Next, we'll hear from White Lightning Willy and the Stump Jumpers after this message from the Lumberton Chicken Farm down near ... "
…Dial, dial, dial. . .
" ... so you figure 41 bushels an acre without Wonder-Gro and at least double that with ... "
…Dial, dial, dial . . .
" ... songs for truckers only. So send $19.95 for your 50 greatest hits, including White Line Fever, Doomsday Hill, Outta Control and Haulin' Gas, and everyone's favorite, Don't Pass Me On The Right, 'Cause I Left My Heart For You. Remember, that's $19.95, plus $3.50 for shipping and han ... "
…Dial, dial, dial. . .
" ... We'll be here for the next four hours, just a pickin' and grinnin'; so stay tuned to the happy spot on your dial. We're gonna kick it off with Dueling Jugs, by The Newton Grove Corn Squeezers. . "
"Yup, that's it Emma. Leave it right there."
The sound of banjos being plucked filled the cab of The Whale and Carl slapped the dash and jiggled his head from side to side like a demented chicken. Emma sighed for the 200th time that day and tried to concentrate on her magazine article.
Ace the Wonder Dog slept soundly, with his tail moving in time to the music and a pool of drool formed under his jaws as he dreamed about chasing and catching fat juicy rabbits.
***
About four hours later, they crossed the magnificent Smokies and descended into the heart of North Carolina. Emma fumbled with the map and gave Carl directions. They peeled off of Highway 1 near Southern Pines and headed east toward Harvest Moon.
The two-lane blacktop road soon deteriorated into a hard packed dirt road, which got worse and worse the further they went. Ruts and bumps appeared, then rocks. Small ones at first, then slabs of granite. Carl drove carefully, driving around the worst rocks and ruts and letting the suspension suck up the small bumps and obstacles. The satellite dish on the roof of The Whale swayed gently, as did the boat and the two trail bikes hung on the bumper racks.
A moment later, a deer darted in front of The Whale and Carl yanked violently at the wheel, missing the deer by inches. The Whale careened off the side of the dirt road and the stomach wrenching sound of abused metal ripped through the cab, and tree branches flew all over place!
Emma clutched her chest and yiped. "Oh, Carl! I'm so proud of you. You made a heroic effort to miss that cute little deer and you saved its life. I could just hug you!"
"Hey, save your hugs for New Years Eve when they're playing some hot Guy Lombardo music. I woulda blasted Bambi there head on with a full throttle, but if you'll recall, I got a brand new winch on the front and I don't need to get the cable all gunked up with deer guts. As far as I'm concerned. Bambi got off real cheap. Tell you what though, if The Whale is hurt real bad, I'm gonna get one of my rifles off the roof rack and hunt that pointy headed hunk of venison and make a stew out of him."
Carl wheezed and grunted as he got out of the giant Suburban to inspect the damage. Emma heard a stream of curse words come out of Carl's mouth that would have curdled milk on a cold day. Apparently not all was well with The Whale.
Carl yanked the driver's side door open and snarled. "Well, Bambi put us in a fine fix. We got a hole in the radiator from a tree branch big enough to hide a ham sandwich. Hope I can find a place that's got some torches. I can braze that sucker shut."
Emma sighed yet another time. "But Carl, we're out here on a dirt road in the woods of North Carolina. I haven't seen a house for a half hour ... oh, Carl, I'm worried!"
"Hey, honey pot, don't you worry none. Old Carl has been in tougher situations than this and still come out smilin'. Got it?"
Emma emitted a weak smile, and nodded.
Carl got out and climbed the ladder on the back of The Whale to the roof. He peered around like a very fat Indian scanning the horizon, and finally found what he was looking for. "There's smoke, Emma. No more than a mile or two away. And where there's smoke, there's people. I figure we got enough spare water with us to keep fillin' the radiator without overheating and get us there. Looks like it'll be straight cross-country, but I think The Whale is more than capable."
Carl filled the radiator with water and grumbled as he watched the water pour out, then fired up The Whale and headed off through the deep woods.
Twenty minutes and three re-filling stops later, Carl broke into a clearing and breathed a sigh of relief. There were three buildings, a half dozen trucks and all sorts of equipment around. A long tall fellow with a straggly beard ambled over and leaned on the drivers side door.
"You folks lost?"
"Nope. We got a hole in the radiator and saw your smoke. I was hopin' you might have a set of torches handy so I can fix it up. I'm sure willing to pay a few bucks."
The tall man scratched his beard. "Well, Luke has the truck with the portable welders on it, and he's, aahh, out in the field makin' some repairs right now. Why don't y'all join us for a bite and some hospitality while we're waitin' fer Luke?"
"Hey, great! This here's my wife, Emma, and my name is Carl."
"Hidee. My name is Stanhope. C'mon and sit."
"Great! Nice spread you got here, Stanley."
"Stanhope."
"That's what I said."
"Okey-dokey. You folks care for somethin' to sip on?"
Emma smiled. "Yes, a cold soft drink would be nice."
Carl chuckled. "Being an old Navy man, I could go for someth¬ing a bit stronger. Maybe a beer?"
It was Stanhope's turn to chuckle. "Oh, I think we got sumpin' that'll clear your throat. C'mon over here behind the shed."
Carl followed Stanhope behind the shed and before he stopped walking, was handed a large clear jug. "Have a sip, said Stan¬hope.
Carl tilted his head back and took more than a sip. In fact, more than a slug. What he took was a big, big, super deep drink. And before he knew what was happening, the cool liquid was in his stomach. It was only when he took a deep breath that he realized that whatever he was drinking was certainly not lemonade.
Stanhope hooked a finger through the handle on the jug and took a pull himself, then handed it back to Carl, who took a snap, then handed it back to Stanhope, who took one more drink, to Carl who really nailed a deep one, and so it went, for the better part of an hour, while Emma had some lemonade with a nice lady named Louella.
The afternoon was hot, and Carl was thirsty. After an hour or so of "slacking" his thirst, Carl started getting a bit hungry. "Think I'll jump in The Whale and fix myself something to eat, Stanhope."
"You go right ahead, Carl ol' buddy. I sorta gotta keep an eye on things around here. I'll come an get you when Luke gets back with the welder."
Carl stumbled inside The Whale and extracted some cold sand¬wiches from the fridge, then tried unsuccessfully to get them in the microwave oven for a good ten minutes before he realized that he was trying to open the front of the TV.
He giggled, then ate the sandwich cold, and promptly fell asleep with a glob of mayonnaise dangling off the edge of his chin.
An hour or so later, he was awakened by the sounds of thumps on the side of The Whale. "Hey, Carl! Luke's here with the torch¬es. Let's get your truck fixed up."
Carl's head felt a little thick, but he figured he'd better get it in gear, so he stumbled out of The Whale, blinking in the bright sunlight. There was an old International pickup backed up to The Whale and it was loaded with welding equipment and genera¬tors. Quite a rig! Luke introduced himself and they hit it off well.
A half-hour later, they'd traded some chewing tobacco around and Stanhope brought the jug out again. Carl mentioned that maybe, just maybe, he ought to get busy and fix The Whale, but Stanhope said, "Hey, there's always tomorrow, Carl. Life's too short not to enjoy yourself. Anyways, one of the women is frying up a mess of fresh catfish and ya'll are invited to partake and camp the night, iff'n ya like." Carl smiled a crooked smile at Emma, who sighed once again, then tipped the jug back and took a deep swallow.
At that point, all hell broke loose. Gunshots filled the air and a bunch of men in uniforms charged into the clearing. "Don't anybody move! You're all under arrest for moonshining! Captain Parkins here will read you your rights, but if you make a funny move, you'll hear those rights through an extra hole or two."
Emma squeaked.
"Oh, Carl ... what have you gotten us into?"
***
What, indeed. Will Carl and Emma go to jail? Will The Whale get impounded and sold at auction? Next month, we find out the an¬swers to these and several other things too weird to consider this month.
THE WANDERERS #9
MOONSHINE BLUES - PART II
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, Carl had stumbled on a moon¬shine operation in North Carolina and they were arrested with the nice folks who ran the still. They were loaded into a large green box van and driven to a nearby town, where they awaited booking and jailing. Emma cried crocodile tears the entire way back, much to the dismay of Carl and his new friends.
***
Stanhope sighed and said, "Shoot, I'm sorry, Carl. They wasn't due to raid us for another three or four weeks. Didn't mean for you nice folks to get your buns busted. Somebody musta forgot to pay off deputy Scumwald. He's supposed to get his two hunnert bucks a week regular as clockwork."
Carl spit a glob of chewing tobacco on the wall of the van. "Heck, that's OK, Stanhope. Wasn't your fault. We used to make our own drinking stuff when I was in the Navy. My favorite was Aqua Velva aftershave lotion and orange juice. Kept me occupied when I was out at sea, ya know. Anyways, what happens next?"
Stanhope scratched his straggly beard. "Well, they'll book us and bust up the still. Then they'll confiscate all the shine and probably make a tidy profit on it when they sell it to our regu¬lar customers. Ya know, we're proud of our brew. It's all natural ... no additives or junk like that. Just straight rotgut."
Emma whimpered in the corner. "Will it be the gas chamber or the firing squad, Stanhope?"
"Now, pretty lady, don't you worry none. Way I figure it is this. We post bail and maybe pay five hunnert bucks each in fines, then it's business as usual."
Emma wailed. " But I'll be a criminal! I'll be branded for life! They'll yank my 4x4 Owners Club license and I won't be able to get my 20 year pin!"
Carl looked at the rusty ceiling and sighed.
An hour later, the box van stopped and the dangerous prisoners were unloaded and herded into the jailhouse. A very large officer with several chins and a beer gut the size of a juke box motioned for them to have a seat. Huge patches of sweat stained the under¬arms of his shirt all the way down to his belt. A basket of 30-weight French fries sat on a pile of reports and a light layer of oil gleamed on the papers.
He sat down in front of an ancient Underwood manual typewriter and poked one key at a time with a huge forefinger. Every third word or so, he made a mistake and swore under his breath, as he was forced to correct it with an eraser.
Two hours later, he had all the reports done and herded the men into one cell, and clanked the door shut. He turned to Emma. "M'am, we ain't got no cell for women, so if you'd like, you can just sort of hang around the A&W Root beer stand next door. Or take in a movie. You don't look like the criminal type to me. Just make sure you show up here by tomorrow at nine AM when Judge Pinrod shows up. Okey dokey?"
Emma sniffed back the tears. "Can I call my lawyer?"
Carl yelled from the cell, "Emma, we ain't got a lawyer. Now go see a movie or something. Better yet, find out where they impounded The Whale and make sure it's OK."
Emma shuffled out, head hung low.
Carl looked around the cell and took a seat as far away as he could from the three winos sleeping on the floor. Stanhope alrea¬dy had a game of cards going with Luke and one of the deputies. Carl slumped down against a wall.
***
Three hours later, Carl was rudely wakened by the huge officer with the huger sweat stains. "Hey, you the guy what owns the big four-wheel-drive truck?"
"It's a Suburban, and yes, that's me. Why do you ask?"
"Well, seems that we just got a call over the radio. The Judge is stuck out in the woods over by Blister Creek. He went off the road trying to miss some stupid deer and he's stuck bad. Couple of guys tried to get him out and now they're stuck, too. Feel like lending a hand?"
"Why should I even think about helping that ... "
Ooooof! An elbow to the ribs by Stanhope stopped Carl in mid-sentence. "Sure, Officer Blint. My friend here would be glad to help out his honor. All we gotta do is make a small repair on his radiator first. Fred at the Texaco station can fix it up quick, and then we can get the Judge took care of."
Officer Blint grunted. "Good. But I'm going with you clowns, and if anyone makes a break for it, or tries anything funny, I'll shoot you a whole bunch of times and throw you back in jail later on. Got it?"
The men gulped. They had it.
***
The trail was rougher than Carl had imagined! A dirt road deteriorated into a miserable dirt road, which in turn degenerat¬ed into a sloppy muddy two-track bordering an evil-looking yellow water creek.
Officer Blint and Stanhope were wide-eyed as Carl fought the steering wheel and The Whale wallowed from side to side. Officer Blint spat a huge glob of tobacco juice out of the driver's side window and said, "We ain't gonna get stuck, are we? it gets worse further on up. We had us a lot of rain the last two weeks and this is lowlands, ya know."
Carl emitted a hearty laugh. "'Officer Blunt, I ... "
"That's Blint."
"Yeh, that's what I said. Anyway Officer Bonk, this here Suburban has a 454 under the hood, and it ain't even close to being stock. And those 44-inch Gumbo Mudders ain't on the wheels for decoration. I could probably idle straight up the side of a redwood tree if you'd clear the brush off."
Stanhope looked a bit green around the edges as The Whale's front end lifted over a rise, then slammed down to the ground.
"Are you gonna rip the front end off this thing, Carl?"
"Hey, calm down, Stanhood. I got 14 Ranchos up front and 18 of the puppies in the rear. The Whale can take a bump!"
Officer Blint pointed a finger straight ahead. "Carl,
we got to climb up this steep hill after you go around this here bend coming up. When it's dry, you got a 50/50 chance of making it to the top. when it's wet, well ... if it's just the same to you, I'll get out and walk up while you take your shot at it""
"What! And let me escape! Nope, you just hang on Officer Blimp and ... "
"That's Blint!"
"Yeh, that's what I said. You got one of those French fries stuck in your ear? Just hold on to the door real good and I'll give you one a those Disneyland E-ticket rides up the hill."
Carl saw the hill up ahead, and it was, indeed, a nasty one. He knew that the only way to conquer this hill was to use momen¬tum. Muddy slick uphills do not usually offer a great deal of traction.
Carl stopped and studied the hill for a few moments, with the engine idling comfortably in neutral. He put The Whale in reverse and backed up as far as he could and lined The Whale up straight and true with the hill.
He then smiled an evil smile and said, "Hang on, Officer Blintz . We're goin' hill climbing!!!"
Carl clicked the shifter into second gear in four low, and pinned it. The mighty 454 hesitated for a micro-second, then The Whale lunged forward like a Top Fuel dump truck. The tach read 6500 rpm and the Econo-meter blipped red lines and told Carl that he was getting 1.2 miles per gallon at the moment.
The Whale charged up the base of the hill and hit the first jump wide open. The engine screamed its guts out as all four wheels cleared the ground, then snapped the heads back on all the occupants as The Whale hit the ground and threw four giant rooster tails.
The Whale continued its charge up the hill straight and true. Carl kept the wheels in the ruts and the pedal stayed right on the metal. About 50 yards from the top, The Whale started to bog down in the deep mud and Officer Blint yelled, "We're gonna die!"
Carl just smiled and reached over to the dash and flipped a chrome toggle switch. Immediately, the engine barked and emitted a huge roar. "Nitrous oxide, Officer Blump. Kicks in another 250 horsepower or so."
Stanhope clawed his fingers into the seat back and started singing Rock Of Ages at the top of his voice, and Officer Blint merely closed his eyes while his sweat stain doubled in size.
Amazingly, The Whale clawed over the top cleanly and sailed 30 feet past the crest, landing neatly on the downslope.
Stanhope stopped singing and clapped Carl on the back. Officer Blint let out a mighty breath of air, that smelled like a MacDon¬alds counter.
Ten minutes later, they came upon the carnage of the Judge stuck off the side of the road and two other trucks buried to the cross-members.
Carl got out and took charge. "Which one a you guys is the Judge?"
"I am. Judge Pinrod at your service. And I thank you for coming to our rescue."
"Well, listen up, Judge Pinhead ... "
"That's Pinrod, sir."
"That's what I said. Anyways, you get in that truck of yours and point the wheels up toward the road, I'll get the winch out. Don't fire it up until I tell you. And when I do tell you, I want you to pin it. I hope you got a V8 under the hood of that Dodge."
"Nope. It's a six. But it's a good one."
"Judge Pinwheel, there ain't no such thing as a good six. Whatever. When I give you the signal, floor it."
Carl strung out the winch cable and hooked it to the front of the Dodge truck, then gave the signal. The engine roared and the winch whined ... and the bumper of the Dodge ripped off and flew over the trees, out of sight.
Carl grunted. "Maybe I should have hooked it to the frame instead. Let's give it another shot. And this time, pay atten¬tion."
Stanhope looked up at the sky and moaned quietly.
Carl rooted around underneath the Dodge and hooked the winch around a frame rail, then got the winch taut. He nailed the winch lever and gave the Judge the signal. The winch whined and strained, but started pulling the buried truck out of the goo.
Judge Pinrod screamed the throttle and the Dodge shuddered and shook, and eventually rose free from the mud. Two minutes later, the Dodge was up on level ground again, blowing steam like a 200 year old train.
Ten more minutes of work had the other two trucks free, and hearty smiles were exchanged by all.
***
An hour and a half later, they were back at the jail and the Judge decided to hold the hearing right there on the spot.
"I find the defendants sort of guilty, but because of their willingness to help a neighbor in need, the charges are official¬ly dropped. Now, if'n y'all will join me down at the Rusty Nail Bar and Grill and Bar, I'm buying drinks for the house."
Carl beamed and Emma beamed even more. "Oh, Carl! We're not criminals. In fact, we're heroes! I'm so proud of you!"
For the first time in his life, Carl blushed. "Hey, don't thank me, honey pot. Thank Judge Pinhead, here."
"That's Pinrod."
"Yeah, that's what I said. Now let's go have us a couple or three beers."
By way of introduction Carl is retired Navy, and Emma is his very patient wife. They travel the country in a pretty stout Suburban on 44s with a 454. It's fiction(ish).
THE WANDERERS #8
SHINE ON HARVEST MOON – PT 1
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, they had just spent a consid¬erable amount of time with cranky old Uncle Howard in Ohio. Even though Carl had lost a trail-driving bet with Uncle Howard, he managed to gain a dog; specifically, he found a mangy mutt, named him Ace the Wonder Dog, and made him a permanent part of their traveling road (and off road) show.
***
We join them now, as The Whale heads south on Interstate 77. Route 77 wanders through Canton, Marietta and farther south into West Virginia via Charleston.
The Whale lumbered through Beckley and eventually into Blue¬field at the base of the Great Smoky Mountains. The massive mountain range loomed through a slight mist, majestic enough in its own right to stand up to anything Europe had to offer.
Carl looked up ahead, as the beautiful highway climbed up and up and up. Emma sighed. "Isn't it beautiful, Carl? Sort of takes your breath away!"
"Yup. Prettier 'n a gutted deer on the hood of a pickup truck."
Emma shuddered. "Carl, you certainly do have a way with words."
"Yeh, I do, don't I? Anyways, why don't you whip out that East Coast map and see how far it is to East Carolina?"
"You mean North Carolina, don't you!"
"That's what I said. You got wax in your ears, woman?"
Emma sighed again. "Well, we have to cross the mountains, then the first big city in North Carolina is Winston-Salem. Carl, would you mind telling me just exactly where we're heading? Or am I supposed to guess?"
"Here's the deal. North Carolina is tobacco country and one of the guys at that Boron gas station back in Ohio was telling me that you could get tobacco products down there real cheap. So I figure I could save a bundle and stock up on some chew. My favor¬ite brand of chewing tobacco is actually made at a plant some¬where south of Fayetteville. Yes sir, Mule Butt Chewing Tobacco is grown, harvested and processed in a little town by the name of Harvest Moon. Boy, talking about chewing tobacco is making my mouth water. Think I'll treat myself to a plug."
Emma started to say something, but thought better of it and instead grabbed a copy of People Magazine and started to read an article about Cher running off with the entire backfield of the Green Bay Packers. After all, Carl did stop smoking those horri¬ble green cigars. Still, that habit of his of spitting out the ...
Splat! Carl ejected a wad of juice out of the window of The Whale with deadly accuracy and blasted a roadside sign dead center. Yet another mist of tobacco juice wafted back to stain the driver's side of The Whale. A constant smile creased Carl's face and he turned to Emma: "Hey, honey pot, here we are in the Rockies, the home of Blue Grass music. See if you can get some of it on the radio."
"You mean Smokies, dear."
"Yeh, that's what I said."
Emma fiddled with the dials of the impressive sound system, not really sure of what she was doing. In the back of her brain, she had this small fear of hitting the wrong button and getting ejected through the - roof like one of those fighter pilots.
Eventually she stumbled on a control that changed the sta¬tions:
"... and that was Fester Dank and the Frog Mountain Boys playin' "I Met Her Under The Haystack And Got Stuck On The Pitchfork Of Love: Next, we'll hear from White Lightning Willy and the Stump Jumpers after this message from the Lumberton Chicken Farm down near ... "
…Dial, dial, dial. . .
" ... so you figure 41 bushels an acre without Wonder-Gro and at least double that with ... "
…Dial, dial, dial . . .
" ... songs for truckers only. So send $19.95 for your 50 greatest hits, including White Line Fever, Doomsday Hill, Outta Control and Haulin' Gas, and everyone's favorite, Don't Pass Me On The Right, 'Cause I Left My Heart For You. Remember, that's $19.95, plus $3.50 for shipping and han ... "
…Dial, dial, dial. . .
" ... We'll be here for the next four hours, just a pickin' and grinnin'; so stay tuned to the happy spot on your dial. We're gonna kick it off with Dueling Jugs, by The Newton Grove Corn Squeezers. . "
"Yup, that's it Emma. Leave it right there."
The sound of banjos being plucked filled the cab of The Whale and Carl slapped the dash and jiggled his head from side to side like a demented chicken. Emma sighed for the 200th time that day and tried to concentrate on her magazine article.
Ace the Wonder Dog slept soundly, with his tail moving in time to the music and a pool of drool formed under his jaws as he dreamed about chasing and catching fat juicy rabbits.
***
About four hours later, they crossed the magnificent Smokies and descended into the heart of North Carolina. Emma fumbled with the map and gave Carl directions. They peeled off of Highway 1 near Southern Pines and headed east toward Harvest Moon.
The two-lane blacktop road soon deteriorated into a hard packed dirt road, which got worse and worse the further they went. Ruts and bumps appeared, then rocks. Small ones at first, then slabs of granite. Carl drove carefully, driving around the worst rocks and ruts and letting the suspension suck up the small bumps and obstacles. The satellite dish on the roof of The Whale swayed gently, as did the boat and the two trail bikes hung on the bumper racks.
A moment later, a deer darted in front of The Whale and Carl yanked violently at the wheel, missing the deer by inches. The Whale careened off the side of the dirt road and the stomach wrenching sound of abused metal ripped through the cab, and tree branches flew all over place!
Emma clutched her chest and yiped. "Oh, Carl! I'm so proud of you. You made a heroic effort to miss that cute little deer and you saved its life. I could just hug you!"
"Hey, save your hugs for New Years Eve when they're playing some hot Guy Lombardo music. I woulda blasted Bambi there head on with a full throttle, but if you'll recall, I got a brand new winch on the front and I don't need to get the cable all gunked up with deer guts. As far as I'm concerned. Bambi got off real cheap. Tell you what though, if The Whale is hurt real bad, I'm gonna get one of my rifles off the roof rack and hunt that pointy headed hunk of venison and make a stew out of him."
Carl wheezed and grunted as he got out of the giant Suburban to inspect the damage. Emma heard a stream of curse words come out of Carl's mouth that would have curdled milk on a cold day. Apparently not all was well with The Whale.
Carl yanked the driver's side door open and snarled. "Well, Bambi put us in a fine fix. We got a hole in the radiator from a tree branch big enough to hide a ham sandwich. Hope I can find a place that's got some torches. I can braze that sucker shut."
Emma sighed yet another time. "But Carl, we're out here on a dirt road in the woods of North Carolina. I haven't seen a house for a half hour ... oh, Carl, I'm worried!"
"Hey, honey pot, don't you worry none. Old Carl has been in tougher situations than this and still come out smilin'. Got it?"
Emma emitted a weak smile, and nodded.
Carl got out and climbed the ladder on the back of The Whale to the roof. He peered around like a very fat Indian scanning the horizon, and finally found what he was looking for. "There's smoke, Emma. No more than a mile or two away. And where there's smoke, there's people. I figure we got enough spare water with us to keep fillin' the radiator without overheating and get us there. Looks like it'll be straight cross-country, but I think The Whale is more than capable."
Carl filled the radiator with water and grumbled as he watched the water pour out, then fired up The Whale and headed off through the deep woods.
Twenty minutes and three re-filling stops later, Carl broke into a clearing and breathed a sigh of relief. There were three buildings, a half dozen trucks and all sorts of equipment around. A long tall fellow with a straggly beard ambled over and leaned on the drivers side door.
"You folks lost?"
"Nope. We got a hole in the radiator and saw your smoke. I was hopin' you might have a set of torches handy so I can fix it up. I'm sure willing to pay a few bucks."
The tall man scratched his beard. "Well, Luke has the truck with the portable welders on it, and he's, aahh, out in the field makin' some repairs right now. Why don't y'all join us for a bite and some hospitality while we're waitin' fer Luke?"
"Hey, great! This here's my wife, Emma, and my name is Carl."
"Hidee. My name is Stanhope. C'mon and sit."
"Great! Nice spread you got here, Stanley."
"Stanhope."
"That's what I said."
"Okey-dokey. You folks care for somethin' to sip on?"
Emma smiled. "Yes, a cold soft drink would be nice."
Carl chuckled. "Being an old Navy man, I could go for someth¬ing a bit stronger. Maybe a beer?"
It was Stanhope's turn to chuckle. "Oh, I think we got sumpin' that'll clear your throat. C'mon over here behind the shed."
Carl followed Stanhope behind the shed and before he stopped walking, was handed a large clear jug. "Have a sip, said Stan¬hope.
Carl tilted his head back and took more than a sip. In fact, more than a slug. What he took was a big, big, super deep drink. And before he knew what was happening, the cool liquid was in his stomach. It was only when he took a deep breath that he realized that whatever he was drinking was certainly not lemonade.
Stanhope hooked a finger through the handle on the jug and took a pull himself, then handed it back to Carl, who took a snap, then handed it back to Stanhope, who took one more drink, to Carl who really nailed a deep one, and so it went, for the better part of an hour, while Emma had some lemonade with a nice lady named Louella.
The afternoon was hot, and Carl was thirsty. After an hour or so of "slacking" his thirst, Carl started getting a bit hungry. "Think I'll jump in The Whale and fix myself something to eat, Stanhope."
"You go right ahead, Carl ol' buddy. I sorta gotta keep an eye on things around here. I'll come an get you when Luke gets back with the welder."
Carl stumbled inside The Whale and extracted some cold sand¬wiches from the fridge, then tried unsuccessfully to get them in the microwave oven for a good ten minutes before he realized that he was trying to open the front of the TV.
He giggled, then ate the sandwich cold, and promptly fell asleep with a glob of mayonnaise dangling off the edge of his chin.
An hour or so later, he was awakened by the sounds of thumps on the side of The Whale. "Hey, Carl! Luke's here with the torch¬es. Let's get your truck fixed up."
Carl's head felt a little thick, but he figured he'd better get it in gear, so he stumbled out of The Whale, blinking in the bright sunlight. There was an old International pickup backed up to The Whale and it was loaded with welding equipment and genera¬tors. Quite a rig! Luke introduced himself and they hit it off well.
A half-hour later, they'd traded some chewing tobacco around and Stanhope brought the jug out again. Carl mentioned that maybe, just maybe, he ought to get busy and fix The Whale, but Stanhope said, "Hey, there's always tomorrow, Carl. Life's too short not to enjoy yourself. Anyways, one of the women is frying up a mess of fresh catfish and ya'll are invited to partake and camp the night, iff'n ya like." Carl smiled a crooked smile at Emma, who sighed once again, then tipped the jug back and took a deep swallow.
At that point, all hell broke loose. Gunshots filled the air and a bunch of men in uniforms charged into the clearing. "Don't anybody move! You're all under arrest for moonshining! Captain Parkins here will read you your rights, but if you make a funny move, you'll hear those rights through an extra hole or two."
Emma squeaked.
"Oh, Carl ... what have you gotten us into?"
***
What, indeed. Will Carl and Emma go to jail? Will The Whale get impounded and sold at auction? Next month, we find out the an¬swers to these and several other things too weird to consider this month.
THE WANDERERS #9
MOONSHINE BLUES - PART II
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, Carl had stumbled on a moon¬shine operation in North Carolina and they were arrested with the nice folks who ran the still. They were loaded into a large green box van and driven to a nearby town, where they awaited booking and jailing. Emma cried crocodile tears the entire way back, much to the dismay of Carl and his new friends.
***
Stanhope sighed and said, "Shoot, I'm sorry, Carl. They wasn't due to raid us for another three or four weeks. Didn't mean for you nice folks to get your buns busted. Somebody musta forgot to pay off deputy Scumwald. He's supposed to get his two hunnert bucks a week regular as clockwork."
Carl spit a glob of chewing tobacco on the wall of the van. "Heck, that's OK, Stanhope. Wasn't your fault. We used to make our own drinking stuff when I was in the Navy. My favorite was Aqua Velva aftershave lotion and orange juice. Kept me occupied when I was out at sea, ya know. Anyways, what happens next?"
Stanhope scratched his straggly beard. "Well, they'll book us and bust up the still. Then they'll confiscate all the shine and probably make a tidy profit on it when they sell it to our regu¬lar customers. Ya know, we're proud of our brew. It's all natural ... no additives or junk like that. Just straight rotgut."
Emma whimpered in the corner. "Will it be the gas chamber or the firing squad, Stanhope?"
"Now, pretty lady, don't you worry none. Way I figure it is this. We post bail and maybe pay five hunnert bucks each in fines, then it's business as usual."
Emma wailed. " But I'll be a criminal! I'll be branded for life! They'll yank my 4x4 Owners Club license and I won't be able to get my 20 year pin!"
Carl looked at the rusty ceiling and sighed.
An hour later, the box van stopped and the dangerous prisoners were unloaded and herded into the jailhouse. A very large officer with several chins and a beer gut the size of a juke box motioned for them to have a seat. Huge patches of sweat stained the under¬arms of his shirt all the way down to his belt. A basket of 30-weight French fries sat on a pile of reports and a light layer of oil gleamed on the papers.
He sat down in front of an ancient Underwood manual typewriter and poked one key at a time with a huge forefinger. Every third word or so, he made a mistake and swore under his breath, as he was forced to correct it with an eraser.
Two hours later, he had all the reports done and herded the men into one cell, and clanked the door shut. He turned to Emma. "M'am, we ain't got no cell for women, so if you'd like, you can just sort of hang around the A&W Root beer stand next door. Or take in a movie. You don't look like the criminal type to me. Just make sure you show up here by tomorrow at nine AM when Judge Pinrod shows up. Okey dokey?"
Emma sniffed back the tears. "Can I call my lawyer?"
Carl yelled from the cell, "Emma, we ain't got a lawyer. Now go see a movie or something. Better yet, find out where they impounded The Whale and make sure it's OK."
Emma shuffled out, head hung low.
Carl looked around the cell and took a seat as far away as he could from the three winos sleeping on the floor. Stanhope alrea¬dy had a game of cards going with Luke and one of the deputies. Carl slumped down against a wall.
***
Three hours later, Carl was rudely wakened by the huge officer with the huger sweat stains. "Hey, you the guy what owns the big four-wheel-drive truck?"
"It's a Suburban, and yes, that's me. Why do you ask?"
"Well, seems that we just got a call over the radio. The Judge is stuck out in the woods over by Blister Creek. He went off the road trying to miss some stupid deer and he's stuck bad. Couple of guys tried to get him out and now they're stuck, too. Feel like lending a hand?"
"Why should I even think about helping that ... "
Ooooof! An elbow to the ribs by Stanhope stopped Carl in mid-sentence. "Sure, Officer Blint. My friend here would be glad to help out his honor. All we gotta do is make a small repair on his radiator first. Fred at the Texaco station can fix it up quick, and then we can get the Judge took care of."
Officer Blint grunted. "Good. But I'm going with you clowns, and if anyone makes a break for it, or tries anything funny, I'll shoot you a whole bunch of times and throw you back in jail later on. Got it?"
The men gulped. They had it.
***
The trail was rougher than Carl had imagined! A dirt road deteriorated into a miserable dirt road, which in turn degenerat¬ed into a sloppy muddy two-track bordering an evil-looking yellow water creek.
Officer Blint and Stanhope were wide-eyed as Carl fought the steering wheel and The Whale wallowed from side to side. Officer Blint spat a huge glob of tobacco juice out of the driver's side window and said, "We ain't gonna get stuck, are we? it gets worse further on up. We had us a lot of rain the last two weeks and this is lowlands, ya know."
Carl emitted a hearty laugh. "'Officer Blunt, I ... "
"That's Blint."
"Yeh, that's what I said. Anyway Officer Bonk, this here Suburban has a 454 under the hood, and it ain't even close to being stock. And those 44-inch Gumbo Mudders ain't on the wheels for decoration. I could probably idle straight up the side of a redwood tree if you'd clear the brush off."
Stanhope looked a bit green around the edges as The Whale's front end lifted over a rise, then slammed down to the ground.
"Are you gonna rip the front end off this thing, Carl?"
"Hey, calm down, Stanhood. I got 14 Ranchos up front and 18 of the puppies in the rear. The Whale can take a bump!"
Officer Blint pointed a finger straight ahead. "Carl,
we got to climb up this steep hill after you go around this here bend coming up. When it's dry, you got a 50/50 chance of making it to the top. when it's wet, well ... if it's just the same to you, I'll get out and walk up while you take your shot at it""
"What! And let me escape! Nope, you just hang on Officer Blimp and ... "
"That's Blint!"
"Yeh, that's what I said. You got one of those French fries stuck in your ear? Just hold on to the door real good and I'll give you one a those Disneyland E-ticket rides up the hill."
Carl saw the hill up ahead, and it was, indeed, a nasty one. He knew that the only way to conquer this hill was to use momen¬tum. Muddy slick uphills do not usually offer a great deal of traction.
Carl stopped and studied the hill for a few moments, with the engine idling comfortably in neutral. He put The Whale in reverse and backed up as far as he could and lined The Whale up straight and true with the hill.
He then smiled an evil smile and said, "Hang on, Officer Blintz . We're goin' hill climbing!!!"
Carl clicked the shifter into second gear in four low, and pinned it. The mighty 454 hesitated for a micro-second, then The Whale lunged forward like a Top Fuel dump truck. The tach read 6500 rpm and the Econo-meter blipped red lines and told Carl that he was getting 1.2 miles per gallon at the moment.
The Whale charged up the base of the hill and hit the first jump wide open. The engine screamed its guts out as all four wheels cleared the ground, then snapped the heads back on all the occupants as The Whale hit the ground and threw four giant rooster tails.
The Whale continued its charge up the hill straight and true. Carl kept the wheels in the ruts and the pedal stayed right on the metal. About 50 yards from the top, The Whale started to bog down in the deep mud and Officer Blint yelled, "We're gonna die!"
Carl just smiled and reached over to the dash and flipped a chrome toggle switch. Immediately, the engine barked and emitted a huge roar. "Nitrous oxide, Officer Blump. Kicks in another 250 horsepower or so."
Stanhope clawed his fingers into the seat back and started singing Rock Of Ages at the top of his voice, and Officer Blint merely closed his eyes while his sweat stain doubled in size.
Amazingly, The Whale clawed over the top cleanly and sailed 30 feet past the crest, landing neatly on the downslope.
Stanhope stopped singing and clapped Carl on the back. Officer Blint let out a mighty breath of air, that smelled like a MacDon¬alds counter.
Ten minutes later, they came upon the carnage of the Judge stuck off the side of the road and two other trucks buried to the cross-members.
Carl got out and took charge. "Which one a you guys is the Judge?"
"I am. Judge Pinrod at your service. And I thank you for coming to our rescue."
"Well, listen up, Judge Pinhead ... "
"That's Pinrod, sir."
"That's what I said. Anyways, you get in that truck of yours and point the wheels up toward the road, I'll get the winch out. Don't fire it up until I tell you. And when I do tell you, I want you to pin it. I hope you got a V8 under the hood of that Dodge."
"Nope. It's a six. But it's a good one."
"Judge Pinwheel, there ain't no such thing as a good six. Whatever. When I give you the signal, floor it."
Carl strung out the winch cable and hooked it to the front of the Dodge truck, then gave the signal. The engine roared and the winch whined ... and the bumper of the Dodge ripped off and flew over the trees, out of sight.
Carl grunted. "Maybe I should have hooked it to the frame instead. Let's give it another shot. And this time, pay atten¬tion."
Stanhope looked up at the sky and moaned quietly.
Carl rooted around underneath the Dodge and hooked the winch around a frame rail, then got the winch taut. He nailed the winch lever and gave the Judge the signal. The winch whined and strained, but started pulling the buried truck out of the goo.
Judge Pinrod screamed the throttle and the Dodge shuddered and shook, and eventually rose free from the mud. Two minutes later, the Dodge was up on level ground again, blowing steam like a 200 year old train.
Ten more minutes of work had the other two trucks free, and hearty smiles were exchanged by all.
***
An hour and a half later, they were back at the jail and the Judge decided to hold the hearing right there on the spot.
"I find the defendants sort of guilty, but because of their willingness to help a neighbor in need, the charges are official¬ly dropped. Now, if'n y'all will join me down at the Rusty Nail Bar and Grill and Bar, I'm buying drinks for the house."
Carl beamed and Emma beamed even more. "Oh, Carl! We're not criminals. In fact, we're heroes! I'm so proud of you!"
For the first time in his life, Carl blushed. "Hey, don't thank me, honey pot. Thank Judge Pinhead, here."
"That's Pinrod."
"Yeah, that's what I said. Now let's go have us a couple or three beers."
