Let the Good Times Roll

The ol' meat sack and his buddies made it back from Eau Claire ... and then he takes off again on some kind of a holiday jaunt ... he claims he's visiting family ... whatever. All I know is that I'm in charge of these circuits again and I can't wait to par-taaay. Probably cruise to that rockin' main frame in Russia ... maybe check out some action in Australia ... I heard it's already tomorrow there ... gotta see if that's true. Anyway, the sack said something about wishing folks a happy holiday ... but that's not my job ... I'm outta here.

Bunny Tracks

An audio version of this post can be found at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4F9yy2WZq_Q&feature=youtu.be

   "Who get's the Morning Moose?" asked the waitress.
   Hank raised his hand. "Right here."
   She set the plate of pancakes and sausages down.
   "The Lumberjack?"
   Uncle Billy nodded and she put the eggs, bacon and potatoes in front of him.
   "The Librarian?"
   I raised my hand.
   She set the bagel and cream cheese down and walked away.
   "That's really all you're getting, Chris?" asked Hank.

   I sat, idly stirring my coffee. "I'm not that hungry."

  "Wonder Boy not hungry?" said Billy. "Alert the media."

  There was a moment of silence, then Hank said. "That really got to you yesterday, didn't it, Chris?"
   Billy sneered. "What? The six-hundred dollar estimate from the mechanic? Why should he care? I'm footing the bill."
   I looked intently at the swirling coffee. "No, Uncle, it's not that."
   "Well, it must be something ...  I've never seen you eat less than me for breakfast since ... well, since ever."
   "Leave him alone, Bill ... he just needs a little quiet time."
   "Hey, I'm not bothering him ... and I'm the one who should be depressed. Who's getting tagged with a big repair for a rolling junk pile ... AND a eighty-five dollar hotel bill ... which was a waste of money, by the way, 'cause I was up all night listening to you snore."
   Hank's face reddened. "Like you didn't?"
   "Will you both just shut-up," I said.
   "He is touchy this morning," said Billy.
   Hank spoke to Billy in a low voice. "It was the book store last night ..."
   I motioned to the waitress as she passed our table. "Could I have my coffee to-go?"
   "Sure, sweetie." She picked up my coffee cup and walked away.
   I smashed the bagel halves together, put a napkin around them, and stood up to leave.
   "Where are you going?" asked Billy.
   "I'm going finish my breakfast in the park across the street."
   Billy leaned back and looked at me. "What is your deal?"
   "I just want to be alone for while, okay?"
   "It's Eb's book, isn't it? You've got a case of the ass because you saw Bunky Takes a Nap in a book store in Eau Claire, Wisconsin."
   I threw three dollar bills on the table. "I'll meet you at Ken's garage." I walked after the waitress.
 

 

Road Kill

  An audio version of this post can be found at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3VzEh-YX8MI&feature=youtu.be

   Hank started to walk around the car.
   "No, you drive," I said.
   He stopped and turned around. "I thought you'd want to drive ... after all, it's your car."
   "I'm whipped. I need a rest."
   Hank nodded and walked back around the car. Uncle Billy got in the back and I slid into the passenger side.
   "Start it up, Hank ... my feet are freezing."
   Hank started the car. "No heat, eh?"

   Billy chimed in. "No room, no padding in the seats, no shocks, no nothin'."

   "It's a little sparse," I said.

   "Sparse?" said Billy. "I've ridden in motorcycle sidecars that were more comfortable."

   "Come on, Uncle, it's not that bad."

   "It's just nice to stop vibrating ... that's all I'm sayin'."

   We sat, watching the truck driver slowly winching the Jag onto the flat bed hauler.

   "Well, you made it to Eau Claire," said Hank.
   I nodded. "That's a small miracle."
   "How long will it take to fix the clutch?" asked Billy.
   "That depends on how fast they can find replacement parts, Uncle."
   "Yeah, that could be a problem," said Hank. "We might be here for a while."
   "Might be cheaper just to ship the damn thing home," said Billy
   I turned to look at Uncle Billy. "I checked that out, remember? Its was $700."
   "Well, we could rack up the much cooling our heels here in Eau Claire."
   I turned back to the front. The tow truck driver was securing the Jag to the truck bed. "Well, let's see what the mechanic says when we get it to the garage. We were lucky to find a place that works on classic sports cars."
   "You think he might be interested in buying it?" asked Billy.
   I turned back to him. "We're not selling it, Uncle."
   "You're not the one paying for all this, remember?"
   I winced slightly and turned back to the front. "Well, your old army buddy would be disappointed if you didn't at least try to get it home."
   Billy glanced skyward. "He's probably laughing his ass off right now at the great joke he played on me."
   My feet began to tingle as they slowed thawed in the warm air from the heater. "I'm going to have to get some warmer socks if I drive that thing anymore in this weather."
   "I'm not riding all the way to Detroit in that thing, I'll tell you that."
   "I need the company, Uncle ... there's no radio either."

Ten Lives

    An audio version of this post can be found at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFqdiPpktT0&feature=youtu.be


"Try it now," said Hank.
   I crossed my fingers and pushed the starter. The engine groaned and sputtered. "Nothing."
   "Okay, turn it off," said Hank.
   I turned off the key and pried myself out of the tiny cockpit. "Man, these things weren't built for tall people."
   Hank stood up and wiped his hands with an oily rag. "They weren't built to last either."
   Uncle Billy stood near the door of the old garage shaking his head, his face still reflecting the disappointment of seeing his new treasure in a state of dilapidation. "I can't believe we drove all the way to Minneapolis for this wreck."
   Hank tried to console him. "It's not so bad, Bill ... a little paint and some TLC ... it'll be fine."
   "It's a piece of junk," said Billy.
   I nodded slightly. "I thought his wife told you Bernie had restored it."
   "That's what she told me ... I guess what she meant was that he thought about restoring it."
   "Well, that's not entirely true, Bill," said Hank, "it's obviously been worked on ... it just wasn't finished."
   "It's finished, all right," said Billy.
   "No, I think Hank's right," I said, "there are several new parts on engine and the paint has been mostly stripped ... it's probably drivable."
   "Over a cliff, maybe
   "Hey, these things are classics," said Hank. "Do you know what a restored Jaguar XK120 is going for these days?"
   "The key word is restored," said Billy, "I doubt that this thing is worth the powder to blow it up."
   "Look, Uncle, we drove all the way here to pick up the car Bernie willed to you ... and we're going to bring it back with us."
   "I think you're more interested in this rolling junk pile than I am," said Billy.
   I flushed a little. "It is a classic, Uncle ... I think we can restore it ... if we can get it home."
   "That's a big if," said Hank. He leaned back over the engine and jiggled some wires. "Try it now."
   I squeezed back into the driver's seat and pressed the starter. The engine groaned and sputtered again, but this time a few spark plugs fired and it coughed to life.
   Hank stood back, a big smile on his face. "How about that," he said over the noise of the rasping engine.
   Uncle Billy moved closer and stared at the vibrating motor. I pried myself back out of the car and stood next to him.
   "You honestly think we could drive that thing back to Michigan?" he asked.
   "Well, it'll be a challenge, that's for sure."
   "Challenge?" he answered. "More like a quest."

Sweet Home Chicago

   An audio version of this post can be found at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2P_2-FmJk4&feature=youtu.be

  "That brunch was awesome," said Hank.
   I merged onto the expressway. "I told you you'd love it."
   Uncle Billy stared out the window. "It was okay ... we should have left this morning."
   "Relax, Bill," said Hank. "How often do you get to have breakfast at the House of Blues?"
   "Now we're behind schedule."
   "Don't worry, Uncle, we'll be in Minneapolis by evening." I sped up to pass around a slow moving truck. "We had to eat anyway ... how cool was it to have a full-on gospel group entertain you at the same time?"
   "My eggs were cold."
   "My food was great," said Hank.
   Billy turned to look at Hank in the back seat. "You'd eat road kill and think it was good."
   "Well, I liked it ... and the music was fantastic."
  "I would have rather seen a regular blues act."
  "Come on, Bill ... you have to admit ... they rocked that joint ... I saw your foot tapping."
  Billy turned back to look out of the windshield. "I said it was okay."
  I eased back into the right lane. "Well, I was blown away ... that was one of the most inspirational performances I've ever seen."
  "It moved me," said Hank, "and I don't usually go in for that kind of thing."
  "It makes a difference when you see it live," I said.
  Billy nodded. "Yeah, I remember the time I saw Buddy Guy at the House of Blues ..."
  Hank interrupted, "Wait ... you've been to the House of Blues before?"
  Billy swung around to look at Hank. "Of course ... many times."
  "I don't remember you mentioning the House of Blues before, Uncle."
  Billy turned back toward me. "I don't tell you everything, boy."
  "Yeah, but something like that? You know how much I like music ... I would've been interested."
  "When the hell did you see Buddy Guy?" asked Hank.
  Billy thought for minute. "I think it was 1991."
  "Uncle, the House of Blues didn't open in Chicago until 1996."
  "Well, maybe it wasn't at the House of Blues ..."
  "Wait a minute, Bill ... didn't you and what's her name ... go with Cal and me to see Buddy Guy at that bar in Detroit ... what was the name of that place ...?"
   Billy got silent.
   "That was it ... you, me, Cal, and that woman you were dating at the time ... what the heck was her name ... saw Buddy Guy at Baker's ... I remember it."
   "Step on it, boy ... I told Sarah we'd meet her for dinner tonight," said Billy.

Cat Lover

  An audio version of this post can be found at:
http://youtu.be/xcFek4b-VZU

 The waitress sidled up to the table. "Yes?"
   "Could I have a little more marinara sauce?" I asked.
   "Sure, hon." She wandered off.
   "So, let me get this straight ... Uncle Billy's cousin Bernie willed a car to him?" asked Cheryl.
   "Not just 'a' car ... a 1952 Jaguar XK one-twenty roadster." I poured a little more ground parmesan on my spaghetti.
   "And you're driving Uncle Billy to Minneapolis this weekend to pick it up?"
   "That's the plan."
   "But Billy doesn't drive ... how are you going to bring the car back?"
   "Hank is coming along ... he'll drive my car back and I'll drive Billy in his new Jag."
   "1952 isn't exactly new."
   "It is to him. He and Bernie used to dream about owning one when they were in the service together ... but Bernie did well enough to actually buy one and have it restored ... his wife called Billy last week and told him about it."
   "You mean about Bernie's passing?"
   "No, about the car. Bernie died over a month ago."
   "Didn't Billy want to go to the funeral?"
   "He didn't hear about Bernie's death until after the funeral. Another cousin ... Sarah, I think he said ... sent him an email wondering why he wasn't at the service."
   "What did he tell her?"
   "That was the first time he'd heard about it."
   "Really? No one told him his cousin had passed? I thought they were close."
   "Well, I guess he and Bernie had drifted apart ... he said he hadn't talked to him in over twenty years."
   "And Bernie left him a car?"
   "Evidently he specified that the Jag went to Billy in his will ... probably because he knew how much Billy wanted one."
   "What is he going to do with a car that he can't drive?"
   "Probably just look at it." I smiled at the thought of Uncle Billy standing in the parking lot of Back in the Day apartments, staring at the Jag. "No, seriously, he'll probably want to keep it in our garage and have me use it to take him around on his errands."
   Cheryl laughed. "Oh, now I get it ... you're the one who is excited by this deal."
   "I'd be lying if denied that."
 

Manhattan Project

An audio version of this post can be found at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9D3mgX6V7M0&feature=youtu.be


 I slid my tray on the table and sat down. "So, how was New York," I asked.
   Clara smiled, "It was lovely ... we had the best time."
   "Sounds like you timed it right." I took the lid off my coffee to let it cool.
   "You mean because of Sandy?"
   "Yeah ... you and Alex might have gotten stuck there."
   She smiled again. "Hmmm, maybe that wouldn't have been so bad."
   "I hear conditions were just awful." I took a bite of my breakfast sandwich.
   Clara's face grew serious. "Yes ... those poor folks."
   I nodded as I chewed. Finally, I said, "They took a pounding, all right."
   She frowned. "Some of the stories I heard ... my heart just aches for them."
   "Yeah, me too." I looked out the window at the gray fall day. After a few seconds, I said, "So, what happened with the publisher ... did you meet with him?"
   Her face relaxed. "Oh, Alex's cousin, David Heath ... yes, I met him."
   "And?"
   "It was a very nice meeting. I learned a lot." Clara was suddenly acting a little coy.
   "Did he make you an offer?"
   She took a sip of her coffee, set the cup down and said, "Yes ... but I turned it down."
   I blinked in disbelief. "You ... you turned down his offer?"
   "I told you I learned a lot ... you have to remember, in spite of the success I've had so far, I'm still a new ... and very low ranking author."
   "What does that mean?"
   "It means I would get very little support from the publisher ... and very little royalty from sales."
   "He told you that?"
   "Not exactly in those words ... but I could put two and two together ... it wasn't really that attractive of an offer ... I think I can do better with the approach I'm taking."
   "As an independent?"
   "Yes."
   I shook my head slowly. "Boy, I don't know that I would have the courage to turn down an offer from a New York publisher ... but then, I'm not exactly lighting up the Internet with my book sales."
   Clara reached out and patted my hand. "It'll pick up ... just keep at it."
   "I'm trying ..."
   "By the way, I heard you missed an opportunity to sell some books with Eb and Irv Nesbaum."
   I flushed slightly. "You did?"
   "Yes ... William told me about it."
   "He did, eh?"
   "So, when are you going to start taking text messages?"
   I sighed. "You too, Clara?"