we been planning to put new wheels on it,” Fred protested.
“Yeah, we been planning to do that for two years now, and besides, we way too big to be playing with that wagon anymore.”
We headed to the shed where we extracted one of the axles from the disabled wagon, took our father’s auger and a large drill bit and a tape measure, and returned to the stump and the board.
After measuring and finding the exact center of the board, I held it steady while Fred drilled the hole in it.
I brushed away the curly wood slivers and said, “Now let’s get to that stump.”
We didn’t even have to measure to find the exact center of the stump. On the inside of trees there is a perfect circle for each year of its age starting from the center and working outward. The circles were still faintly visible on the old stump. I had counted them before and knew the tree had been eighty years old when the lightning bolt killed it.
Fred placed the point of the drill bit on the dot in the exact center of the stump. I thought the tree must have been just a little bitty fellow when that dot first appeared.I watched as my brother began drilling at the spot indicating when the tree had been born.
“How long you figure that axle is?” Fred asked after he blew the wood shavings from the hole he had drilled in the stump.
I placed the tape measure on it and announced, “It’s exactly two feet.”
“That hole I drilled is deep enough then. It’s four or five inches. We’ll drive the axle down about halfway so it’ll be real tight and still leave a foot sticking out of the stump to go through the board. Go get the ax off the chopping block so I can drive it in.”
The flat part of the ax made a chiming sound as it drove the axle deep into the stump. Fred stepped back and said, “Does that look like it’s about halfway?”
“Give it one more little tap,” I told him.
He did, and I said, “Whoa, that looks just about perfect.”
“All right,” he said, as he cast the ax aside. “Grab the other end of the board and let’s put her in place.”
After we had that accomplished, we stood back and admired our work. “What do you think?” Fred asked.
“Uh—I don’t know. How does it work?”
“Can’t you see? We each grab a hold of opposite ends of the board and start running in a circle. When we get to going real fast, we jump on the board at the same time and ride it as it spins around the stump.”
I wasn’t convinced. “Where did you hear about this thing—what was it you said you called it?”
“It’s a spinning jenny.”
“I understand the spinning part, but where did the jenny part come from?”
“I don’t know, that’s just what it’s called.”
“Well, who told you how to make it?”
“You know what else?” he said without answering my question.
“What?”
“Instead of two people running around the stump and then jumping on the board, they both could just go ahead and get on and let a third person push them real fast, and I bet it would just about sling you off that board.”
“But wouldn’t the board hit the person pushing when they stopped pushing?”
“If they was dumb enough to just stand there, I ’spect it would. But it wouldn’t be hard to just get out of the way real quick after it got going real fast. You want to let’s give it a try?”
I was still a little leery of that spinning jenny. “I don’t know. Maybe if we done it real slow at first, you know, just run at about half as fast as we really can, then I would.”
“Okay, get at your end of the board,” Fred said. “And remember, when I yell ‘go,’ stop running and jump on. I’ll do the same thing. Oh, and one more thing, when it stops we both have to get off at the same time?”
“How come?”
“’Cause if one person gets off before the other one without the other one knowing, your own weight can pull you down and you can mash your foot under the board.”
When we were both in place my brother nodded, and we began running around the stump, each of us holding on to our end of the board. After about three circles Fred yelled the signal, and we both leaped simultaneously onto the board.
I expected it to spin so fast that it would make me dizzy and sling me clean off. It barely made one slow circle before it came to a stop, making a grinding sound on the surface of the stump.
We sat in dazed disappointment for a few moments. Finally Fred said, “Okay, let’s get off. It didn’t exactly sling us off, did it? Something’s wrong.”
He stood there studying the situation for a few moments before he said, “There must be something I forgot.”
I certainly didn’t know what it was.
Suddenly he exclaimed, “I know what it is, wait right here!”
I watched as he dashed off toward the tool shed again. In no time at all he returned with a can of axle grease in one hand and a stick in the other and began dipping a gob of the dark, heavy grease out of the can with the stick. Next, he pushed the grease into the hole where the wagon axle went through the board.
Then he smeared more grease all over the surface of the stump, and I knew I would have to find a new place to crack nuts.
When he finished he set the can of grease aside and tossed the stick off into the woods.
“All right, smarty pants,” he said, “let’s give it another try. And let’s run harder this time before we jump on.”
I didn’t expect the results to be much different, so I agreed.
When we were poised at each end of the board, Fred instructed, “Same rules as before, okay?”
I agreed and we began running. I noticed right off the board was much easier to push.
“Come on, just a little faster,” he yelled.
We were running almost full out when he yelled, “Go!”
When we leaped on that board it seemed to have an engine running it. I managed to hold on for two, maybe three turns, before it slung me off. I heard a yelp of pain from Fred as I went tumbling through the grass. He came limping over toward me and asked, “You okay?”
I sat up, felt of myself, and said, “Yeah, I think so. How about you?”
“My foot got smashed a little under the board when you went flying, but it’s okay. That thing really took off!”
I could hear the excitement in his voice and could tell he was proud
