A Car With Immortal Green Lights, page 1
A CAR WITH IMMORTAL GREEN LIGHTS
Harry O'Toole
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Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2009 Harry O'Toole
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Table of Contents
MEMORIAL
PART ONE-THE RIVER OF MIST AND MYSTERY
MEET THE WIZARD
EVIL ROAMS THE HILLS
THE IMMORTAL GREEN LIGHT
PART TWO - ROAMING RANGERS -
SMOKESTACK RANGERS
A CAR WITH GREEN LIGHTS
PART THREE - IMMORTALITY
BROWN BOY WITH GREEN EYES
FIRST AID
LEPRECHAUN
WATER TANK ARTISTS
RULES OF THE ROAD
ROAD EMERGENCY
PINK, PURPLE & APPLE GREEN CARS
IMMORTAL LIFE
RETURN OF THE CAR WITH GREEN LIGHTS
MEMORIAL
The hillside horse pasture was overgrown, making it an effort for this grey haired old guy to climb, as well as my young neighbor. Near the top of the field was a mound, said to be an Indian burial mound; at the peak sat a rusty automobile, the object of this climb.
The mound overlooked the bottoms of the great river, giving us a far view. This young fellow had agreed to drive me out here to see the for himself this abandon car. I had told him that for years I had driven this faithful Packard; when the time came to replace it, I couldn’t bear to see it go to the scrap heap. A friend of mine knew this old farmer who had never owned an automobile in his life; was then too old to pass a driver exam. He agreed to put my old car out to pasture with the condition it had to be able to start and run. For years he would drive it around his place, uphill and down, always parking at the top of the mound so it could roll it down to help give it a start. Naturally the car had rusted; easy to see it was my Packard, the dark green paint, the deluxe trim, all as I had said. Then my friend notices, “It has green headlights. You never told me about that!” This was the time place and person to tell how this car came to have green lights. We sat on the mound; I started off with the fishing trip me and a fellow student went on in the late years of the Depression. Continued telling the saga on the long drive home; finished it on the back porch of my house the next day; ending it with immortality.
PART ONE-THE RIVER OF MIST AND MYSTERY
The government called it a recession; the papers named it the Great Depression. I said to Billy, “How can us fellas be depressed when for the price of a tank of gasoline and a tent you can go on a week’s fishing n’ camping vacation.” Find us a clear flowing river that few people fish. Where you can have the fun of living like the Indians with a campfire to cook your catch, cheer you in the night, warm you in the morning. So we headed south out of the city to the hill country, find a river on the map, where we’ll look for a place to get down to the river gravel, set up camp. Satisfaction guaranteed!
My dad lent his old Hudson Terraplane auto to me; it would get us to where we wanted to go. First we stop for grubs and supplies at a town along the route to stock up on bacon, bread, coffee. Go to the ice house to buy a block of ice to keep milk and eggs, cool the soda pop. Browse in the local hardware store; might need a shovel to dig for worms, or a coal oil lantern for fishing at night if there is no moon; buy a hatchet cause there is a nifty one shown in the store window.
We had just turned off the main road heading due south, Bill remembered that he had forgot to bring his swimming trunks or didn’t own a pair; I don’t remember which . After a dozen miles we come to the town of Ironville. Driving down Main Street, Bill spied a men’s clothing store. Bill says, “Let’s give this place a try; I ain’t exactly buying a business suit.” Inside this one room store were tables stacked with each item, one for caps, one for trousers, and one for underwear. Only the shirts were hung on racks. A salesman greeted us when we entered with a cheery hello and a “Be with you in a sec.” Bill had found the shorts and swim suit table, flipped over the selections in search of the right color. He dressed colorful as a peacock when he was out on the town, he’d say, “Catches the eyes of the ladies”. I browsed through the piles of caps. The clerk asks, “What did you have in mind. “With a smirk Bills says, “Something that will show off my best feature”. The clerk says I have some “High Divers”, good brand name. They are made tight to stay on, but do tend to show off ones prime attraction. He pulls these out from a drawer under the table. Bill flips over the stack, settles on a flame orange pair. Asks, “How much.” The clerk examines them says, “Oh these are on sale, only eight dollars. “It’s a deal.” Mr. Clerk says “You best try them on first; the law here doesn’t permit swim wear to be returned”.
He shows him a booth over in the corner, “Take your time, be sure they give you enough room. Excuse me for a moment. I have something I must attend to”. Turning to me he says, “Keep on browsing. If you find something you like I can give you a special price, I am the proprietor of this shop.” As Bill steps into the booth the proprietor passes in two more pair. “Give these a try, They are half priced, “then disappears into his back office. I wait and wait getting tired of going through the stacks; walk outside for a while, back in when I see Bill appear. He has on the flame orange trunks. Mr. Proprietor comes out. Bill prances around like a show horse, the trunks so tight they show off his bulge. Mr. Proprietor says, “Oh that is your size all right. I say they look tight. Proprietor says High Divers stretch. I am thinking he is just trying to make a sale.
He surprises me by saying, “I will I’ve them to you at half price.” Bill smiles at the deal.
Wearing the cap that I have decided to buy, I hand out a dollar bill. Mr. Proprietor says to me. “I am going to give you that cap, you have been so patient. You look so cute in it.”
Once on the road again, I say to Bill,” We sure got a bargain there.” Bill says “I’d say he came out even; he got his half of the bargain. “How do you mean?” With that sheepish grin says, “There was a two way mirror in that booth”. I say “You knew? “. Bill says, “Sure, I put on a tease show for him to see, I get half price, you get a free hat.” I say, “Do you know that makes you a gigolo, and makes me look like your pimp. Bill says,” Looks like you’ve got yourself a new career, Mr. Cutey. !”
Finally we get off the black top road; follow a gravel road that local folk say will get you to the river. The river camp site has two cars already parked, two too many, three’s a crowd. Search farther upstream, the roads getting dusty. The road climbs out of the valley; we continue driving on this ridge road for a few miles. The road goes down a steep grade, taking us to another river valley. Roads branch, this one looks level, must be following along the river bottom. Come to a creek crossing, not come to the river yet! Ford the creek, get stuck, spin the wheels, only digging deeper. The engine gets wet, conks out. We think, “Someone will come along sooner are later.” They don’t! “Didn’t we pass a house half mile back?” “Yep.” We walk back. A man is outside the house throwing scraps to his dogs. He comes to his fence, says “Howdy”. We say we need a tractor to pull us out of the creek. He says “ain’t got no tractor, nor automobile. I got a mule, could hitch him up.” ” We will pay”. Thinking it over he said,. “I’ll give it a go “.
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He connects the car to his mule with a logging chain. The mule can’t budge the car. The fellow says,” You are sitting on the bottom, you spun yourself a hole. I know a fellow that’s got an ox; Doc Worbolt. He lives between the rivers, at the Forks, some ways from here “. “There is a doctor living back here? “Not a diploma doctor, though he does heal people. Mostly he delivers babies; what you’d call a midwife.” He snickers at the title. “Still he is good at all sorts of stuff; can shoe a horse, fix machines, knit a sweater; he can do most everything and anything, a regular wizard.” He rides his mule back to his place, comes back with the mule pulling a buggy. “Climb aboard. This here mule I named Tornado; it didn’t help much. I guess he was born slow!” We laugh at his humor. “My name is Clarence Muller. I’m the mailman for these parts. Kids say, “Here comes Mr. Muleman,” cause I ride this mule delivering mail. He’s better than an auto; we can get in to the hollows were an automobile can’t go.”
I reach out my hand to shake his. “My name is John Larkin, everybody calls me Larkin. This is my friend William Williams; I call him Bill, sometimes Billy.” We are off to see the wizard !!!
MEET THE WIZARD
The house wasn’t on the river; it was across the river. We had to cross the river on a foot bridge that swayed with every step. The house didn’t sit on the rivers rocky bluff either, sat on the ridge top where two rivers came together, that overlooked a bottom field. It didn’t look like a house. Might have once been a school house, a school house without a school bell. Could have been a small church, there were no steeple. It did sit on a high stone foundation like a church. Any how he had made it into his home.
We heard first him singing before we saw him. He was in the bottom sunflower field, the flowers in full bloom, hoeing weeds; singing as he worked. The view was as bright with color as a painting. Mr. Mueller gave him a hoot. He looked up, saw us; kept on his singing as he walked up to greet us; singing words about harvesting sunshine.
Up comes this brawny man, wearing nothing but his boxer short. Explained his attire, but not apologizing. “Chiggers don’t bother me this way. What you fellows come for? “Mr. Mueller says, “These boys could use your ox’s help. They’re axle deep in the gravel on Water Fork Ford.” He drops out of his shorts, pours a bucket of water over his head, steps into his bib overalls, we watch him put the yoke on the oxen. “Got him after they stopped using him to haul out the timber for the railroad tie business, a gentle a pet as any dog, but he ain’t house broken!” We laugh at the ridiculous notion.
He fords the ox across the river; we cross back to the mule wagon; follow him to the creek. Doc attaches the log chain. He gives a yell, “Yeo Olla,” and the ox has our auto out of the creek on the first pull. He opens the hood; removes the distributor cap. Says moisture forms there when it got chilled by the water. Dries it out with a rag; blows on it as though breathing in life. Cranks the engine once and it fires up. Doc says “You boys can camp on the gravel across from my place.” We have found our Land of Oz.
On the next morning fishing fun began as soon we had breakfast cooked and swallowed down . Minnow traps were set out even before the breakfast was cooked. As soon as the cleanup was out of the way, I check the traps. We had enough minnows for a few lines. Off to find the perfect fishing hole. A short walk up stream on the gravel there was a dark hole against the bluff. Most convenient, not yet the fish trap hole of our imagination. Our blue hole was found after a good further half mile walk, with shade trees over hanging the gravel, water clears as glass down to the bottom. The poles were set out; then we sat down in solemn silence, waiting for the apparition of the almighty bass to appear. He came, not on the first bite, which was a large blue gill, nor the second nor the third. Fourth bite he swallowed. Billy had him hooked; he surfaced like a submarine, fought, rested, fought again, and was landed. Very satisfied with both our catches, we went back to camp to fry our catch. We snoozed in the sunlight, bathed in the river before bed. All is well at nine bells that evening, and the next evening, and the next.
On the following day, bringing back a catch of bass, I go to clean the fish at the river edge. Doc yells a good afternoon from the bridge. I call back, “You like fried fish, come on over for supper”. It doesn’t take long to fry the mess, fill in the meal with fried potatoes, and finish off with sweet corn mush. We split the last of the soda pop with our guest; we do so gladly.
Doc says, “You two look young enough to be school boys!” Bill says, “We’re trade school cadets. I’m going into power plant management, Larkin here is gonna be a certified auto mechanic.”
Right off I ask, “How did you happen to come to this place?” Doc tells us “This is where I was born this is where I’ll die. Not exactly right here, but I was born in the next county, which is near the same. For a while I did live in the city, because my mother had split from my father and he wanted me to come live with him. He called our county, Dead End County, since he didn’t see any progress being made. With him I’d learn a good trade, make good money. He had made some money himself shipping shoes; working for one of the big shoe companies. Went to high school up there. Wasn’t easy for a kid from the hills; I don’t mean the studies. I had always read a lot; my mother was a librarian. It was the other students; they made fun of the accent I had, called me a dumb hillbilly. Once I got out of school, a got hired at lots of jobs. Funny thing, the one job that changed my life was when I was a fireman. The station received this emergency call that a woman was having a baby. Seems nobody on the crew knew how to deliver a baby. I opened my mouth, saying I did. What I didn’t tell them was I had only read how to do it in a book. As a kid I was at the library one day trying find out how babies were made; things that boys want to know but weren’t told. I brought that baby into the world “By the Book “. After working up there for a number of years, I started getting this strong feeling I needed to go back to live in the hill country.” I ask, “Then you decided to come here to be a midwife?” Doc explained, “Being a midwife ain’t exactly a full time job, I take on other things when folks around here need help. Mostly I’d say I am a farmer that lives off the land. That’s the way it has been around here for hundreds of years; growing sunflowers as my prime crop. I grow them for the seeds, of course, to feed the chickens, but the blooms feed my soul. I say, “Mighty lucky day when you found this place.“ Doc paused, then went on, “Not luck, I was brought here by certain folks; they were searching for a person they could trust. Might say I was chosen. There are reasons why they wanted me to live on this place at the Forks. Might tell you a little more some other time.”
On our fourth day we waded downstream to the Forks where the Long Prong meets the Short Prong. The Long Prong River poured in even more water. Following down along the shore we spotted deep holes; likely where the big bass hide. It didn’t take too many casts before I hit a big one. Bill said it ought to be in the record books. We would check the record later. At a low bluff on a deep hole, there was a rope swing. Nobody using it, so like little boys we had a go at swinging and diving. When we got back, I cleaned my catch, cooked it, and we ate it before I remembered to weigh it. Didn’t matter; who would have believed it. Id’ say it was the best day so far. It was to be the last of the best days. Clouds came in at sunrise. We stayed near camp, only going up to set lines fish at the convenient holes. The threat of a downpour was possible. In this river bottom the far horizon could not be seen; we could not see what was coming. Swimming is less pleasurable without the warm sunlight on bare skin. We see Doc crossed on the foot bridge. He came to us in an uncertain brisk walk. Boys,” he says, “There’s a large storm coming in; you ought to move your camp out of the gravel. “We got our tent; we’re ready for rain. Doc, “Not the rain, the flood, it will take a day or so for the full flow to reach here, but the gravel will be under water by morning. I hated to break camp, we had it all organized to the book; fire pit dug, lined with rocks. We had rolled in two logs to sit on, chopped a stack of wood ready for the camp fire. Likely Doc was right cause the wind was already blowing. He gave us a hand moving our gear up to the bank; not a place to my liking, weedy and buggy. We had not yet re-set up the tent when the first drops fell. Then Doc suggests, “Got a better idea you could come up to my place and sleep on the floor.
The building was made up of two rooms. The large one was the gathering place; the small room was where Doc lived. He had one bed, one table. A metal cooking stove connected to a flue, likely to serve also to heat the room. The opposite wall, a plain clapboard wall, had neither picture hung nor shelves. On the side walls there were shelves, one for cooking pots; the other side had shelves with books. Most peculiar was the back outside wall that had many windows, one after another. Other peculiar features of the construction were noticed. It had a pitched ceiling, braced by wooden beams; that was not unusual. Unusual was the far end of the big meeting hall. There was a raise platform, normal for a school room or church. If it had been a school there would have been a blackboard; if it were a church there would have been a paintings; it was totally plain.
EVIL ROAMS THE HILLS
As the two of us waited out the rain playing cards and telling jokes, Doc comes up to us saying, “ Fellows, I got to tell you; there is some wicked goings on here about. A woman here has some bad troubles, really bad, she’s to have a baby soon. That’s not the bad stuff. There’s something evil that roams these hills. I can’t tell you all about it now, but I sure need your help. I’ll tell you more as we go. We got to go down the river a long way in my Jon boat. It’s got to be today.
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It’s been raining in the head waters, got to do it before the river rises here. Must get down to Millville before dark, that’s some 15 miles you know! Think you would do it?” Together we said, “Yes!”
