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Vignettes
Life's Tales
Book One
by
William Baker
Copyright 2011 William Baker,
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0534-6
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
INTRODUCTION
This booklet of Vignettes
contains random stories
about happenings
in my life.
The stories are true and
written as I remember them
without embellishment.
Hope you enjoy them.
Bill Baker
A Thadeus T. Throckmorton III Production
VIGNETTE NO. I
Tale of the Model T
Oakland and Alameda, California
The year is 1938. I am twelve, but almost thirteen. Bert, my step-brother, and his buddy Gus are both sixteen and “big guys on the campus”. After all, Bert is driving a 1934 5-passenger window Ford Coupe and Gus is always seen riding a motorcycle or some other form of transportation made from junk yard parts. Gus’s latest assembly is a 1913 Model T ford chassis and engine with a bucket body, orange crates for seats and no floor boards. Gus has announced, “She is ready for a test drive on the Alameda mud flats”.
With that announcement Bert and I jump onto the vacant orange crate and hold onto the body as Gus jams the pedals of the unlicensed demon and sends us roaring down 50th Avenue to Foothill Boulevard then on to High Street, across the High Street Bridge and onto the island of Alameda and then to the mud flats.
There, the mud begins to fly from the non-fendered wheels as first Gus then Bert take turns jamming the pedals and getting an instant reverse by pressing the reverse pedal when going forward and then doing the same thing with the low gear pedal when going backward to give a second instant change of direction. By turning in timing with the change of direction the “T” spins one way then the other. Mud is flying and I’m hanging on tight ever fearful of falling off of the orange crate and underneath the “T”. We spun, spin, lurch, spin and lurch some more. Suddenly, a loud bang tells of something gone wrong and the “T” comes to a stop in the deep mud.
Gus races the engine, slams the pedals in and out. We aren’t going anywhere! A quick evaluation by Gus gives us the answer,,,,, the axle is broken. Gus jumps out of the body, into the mud and raises the rear drive wheel while slamming it back into the axle housing.
Back on the orange crate, Gus eases out the drive pedal and ever so slowly we move to the nearby dry surface where with each revolution the drive wheel is moving out of the axle housing. After a short discussion, Bert and I jump out and take our positions. With the “T” creeping along and the drive wheel turning and coming out of the axle housing every twenty feet or so we are slowly moving up High Street. When our forward motion stops Bert lifts the drive wheel off the pavement and I push it back into the axle housing. At this rate it is going to be a long way home!!
Then Gus stops the “T” and calls for a huddle. Gus has an idea.
We are stopped alongside a lumber yard and a stack of 4 x 4’s. Gus directs Bert and I to get one of the 4 x 4’s. We give it a thought and possibly a word about “stealing”, but quickly conclude this to be an emergency and a 4 x 4 is retrieved. Then with Gus’s directions, the 4 x 4 goes under the rear axle and on the back of the body,. This takes the weight off the drive wheel but allows it to touch the pavement. With that arrangement, Bert and I trot alongside and as the wheel spindles from the drive shaft we push it back in and make our way home..
END
VIGNETTE NO. II
Tale of Gus’s Mom’s Preserves
Oakland, California
The year is 1939. I am thirteen and almost fourteen. Gus, Bert and I are in the vacant lot next door to Gus’s house on 50th Avenue where Gus has finished working on his Indian motorcycle built from junk yard scraps. He hops on it, stands tall on the starter and slams his weight down. The Indian roars to life in an ear splitting roar. Gus releases the clutch and the Indian rears up on its back wheel and darts forward. On the sidewalk is grease from Gus’s efforts and as the motorcycle charges through the grease the rear tire slips, spins, and Gus looses control of the machine.
Gus tries desperately to recover, but the centrifugal force is too much and the Indian motorcycle launches itself into the air, makes a sharp right turn and, still air borne, sails down the steep driveway crashing through the window paneled garage doors and landing on the basement floor. Gus, who has been ejected uninjured from the bike, scrambles to his feet and charges for the garage as Bert and me, race after Gus. The shattered garage doors hang limply from their mounts. Coming from inside the garage is the roar of the motorcycle’s engine and a lot of crashing and banging
sounds. We moved inside the garage and there, the motorcycle, at full throttle, lay on it’s side spinning in a circle. First, it would slam into the back wall and then with the gear engaged the rear wheel would hit the cement foundation sending the cycle crashing again into the back wall. Around and around the motorcycle went, each time slamming into the back wall. On the other side of the wall were several shelves laden with Gus’ Mom’s preserves. With each slam of the motorcycle into the wall we could hear the jars of preserves crashing onto the cement floor. Gus frantically tried to reach the spinning motorcycle but with each of Gus’s efforts the motorcycle bounced off of the cement foundation and into the back wall. The preserves went flying!.
After several attempts, Gus successfully shut-off the motorcycle and his mother stepped into the basement. She took stock of the scene, stood motionless, then in a strong controlled voice said, “Clean it up”.
END
