mother was unusually late that night, and Robbie was starting to wonder if something had happened when a peep through the window for about the twentieth time revealed a gleaming red-and-white Thunderbird with huge tail fins pulling into the driveway.
Robbie gasped at the sheer beauty of the car and wondered whose it was. His surprise turned to sheer puzzlement when his mother got out of the vehicle. He ran outside and down the front steps, all thought of his new baseball uniform forgotten in his eagerness to discover who owned this amazing car. But his mother noticed his uniform immediately. “My, don’t we look smart. Let’s have a good look at you.”
Robbie, though, was only interested in the Thunderbird. “Mom, whose car is this? I wish we had one like it.”
“Well...actually we do, Robbie. I just bought it.”
“This is our car?”
“Yes, it is. Now let’s go in and let poor Mrs. Brady go home.”
“But, Mom, can’t we go for a little ride first, just to show Billy? Please, Mom?”
“Later, Robbie. Right now Mrs. Brady has to get home to her family.”
Mrs. Brady had appeared in the driveway and had heard Robbie’s plea. “Oh, it’s all right, Miss Emily. I can hang on a few more minutes. Give the lad a ride.”
“See, it’s okay, Mom. Let’s go.”
Emily laughed. “Come on then,” she said, and they both got into the car.
Billy was in his front yard as they drove by slowly. “Hey, Billy, what d’you think of our new car?” Robbie called out.
Billy looked up in amazement when he saw the Thunderbird. “What a beauty!” he yelled back.
Although Robbie had kept up his nocturnal visits to the landing once a month throughout the winter, he had heard little that was interesting about the plane and generally crept back into his room after an hour or so. But at the first meeting after his mother bought the Thunderbird, things really got exciting again.
Joe Wilkie started off the discussion. “I don’t think I’ve seen Crawford Gordon so angry. I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel after the air force insisted on having this new Astra electronics system from RCA Victor.”
Jack Fowler took a sip from his coffee mug. “It’s the cost factor that’s really bothering Crawford. We’ve got enough trouble with the government on cost overruns as it is, and Crawford’s convinced this new system will send the bureaucrats into another panic.”
“Well, they approved it, didn’t they, Jack?” Robbie’s mother said.
“That won’t help us if it inflates the budget. They’ll find a way to blame us. Count on it.”
“I agree,” Emily said. “Even though we’ve stated clearly that we’re convinced the Hughes system with the Falcon missiles will do the job for a fraction of the price, it won’t make any difference if the Astra’s development costs spiral out of control. The politicians will hold us accountable, anyway.”
Joe nodded as he helped himself to some potato chips. “Yes, and don’t forget that the Sparrow 2 missile that goes with the Astra package has to be built, as well, and there’s no way anyone can know how expensive that will be, especially since the Yanks are building it and we don’t have much control over it.”
“As far as I can see, all we can do is what Crawford keeps telling us—make sure the production of the CF-105 moves as fast as humanly possible and let the chips fall where they may,” Fowler said, smiling slightly as Joe dropped some potato chips on the floor.
A little numb with fatigue, Robbie returned to his room and climbed quietly into bed, his mind trying hard to grasp the complexities involved in the building of the CF-105. As his brain spun with visions of missiles and electronic components, he did know one thing: the worry in the voices of his mother and her friends spelled trouble.
That Saturday, when Billy invited Robbie over to his house to listen to some new 45 records he had bought, Robbie jumped at the chance. Billy had the latest Elvis Presley, Bill Haley and the Comets, and Lonnie Donegan discs, and a much better record player. Now the two were stretched out on Billy’s bed, savouring the last few rollicking words of Donegan’s “Rock Island Line”: “Well, if you ride it you gotta ride it like you find it. Get your ticket at the station for the Rock Island Line.”
Billy had introduced Robbie to Donegan’s skiffle music, and the British musician had fast become one of Robbie’s favourites. Skiffle was a blend of blues and folk music and could be played on just about anything—washboards, jugs, kazoos, and harmonicas as well as banjoes and guitars.
When Billy noticed Robbie nodding off, he said, “Boy, you must have stayed up all night listening to your mom and her mates talk about the CF-105. No one ever falls asleep when Lonnie’s singing. Did you hear anything new?”
“Nothing good. I didn’t really understand it all, but it looks like the air force wants to use a different system to fire the missiles on the CF-105. It’s some sort of electronic machine.”
“What’s so bad about that?”
“My mom and her friends think this new system will be a lot more expensive than the one they were going to use. And like I’ve told you before, the government’s always bugging my mom and everybody else at Avro about spending too much money.”
Billy blew a big pink bubble with his chewing gum, watched it pop, then asked, “Why don’t they just say no then?”
“That’s the funny part. They seem worried the government might get upset about the cost, yet they also said it’s the government that’s insisting they use it.”
Billy blew another bubble. “My dad says you can never trust politicians.”
“I think my mom would agree. But, hey, let’s forget about all that for now and listen to that new Elvis song you got.”
Billy reached over and picked up another 45. “‘Heartbreak Hotel’?”
“That’s it.”
Billy got off the bed and went over to the record player. He took off the disc they’d been playing, put on the new one, and carefully positioned the needle into the first groove. “By the way, how’s your new car? Been out in it again?”
“Yeah, once. It’s terrific. It’s got all these gadgets—and what an engine! I think my mom’s a bit afraid to put her foot down too hard yet, ’cause it sure can go.”
“Sounds super. Maybe you can wangle me a ride next time.”
“My mom was saying something about taking the car out for a spin in the countryside around Toronto. I’ll ask her if you can come, too.”
“Smashing! Just let me know when and where, Robbie, and I’ll be there.”
