RUDIMENTS, pt 751
(auld lang syne)
All I ever do is try and
keep things straight. That's
not as easy or simple as it
may appear. Sometimes I
think I see things moving,
and then there's nothing
there. Shows you the value
of investigating things.
-
So, those mechanic guys,
after they'd moved in to the
space they wanted, began to
bring - mostly one lame old
car at a time - what they wanted
to be working on. Small-time
mechanic stuff; local jobs,
maybe 30-mile radius. They
said it was pretty difficult
because most of the farmers
and farm-kids took care of
and maintained and tuned
their own stuff. They were
all good with that - wrenches
and engines and all. What
these guys got were old lady
cars, or girls, old neighbors from
there and around, looking for
a deal. I didn't mind, even as
it began to get cluttered, and
then it began getting that there'd
more and more be other people
around too. Just hanging out.
These guys were all loopers
for the distaff side : girls then
abounded. I stayed off that scene.
What bothered me most, a few
things, were: First; they'd be
dumping oil way out back -
about a 1/4 behind my ridgeline
there was an old 1920's dump
for the locals - filled with all
sorts of cool old crap, grown over,
weeded, untouched. I got lots of
cool junk out of there, just by
pawing around. Ancient old
car headlamps. Running boards,
lanterns, wheels. Anyway, they'd
drive an old truck back out there
and dump oil. That kind of did
annoy me, but in reality it was
all before the days of awareness
and eco-consciousness and stuff.
People dumped crap everywhere.
-
That was OK, but in my case it
was also problematical, in that
my property was spring-fed for
its water supply. Not so much
from this low-land water area
at the far-off dump, but still. My
spring came through the gradual
hill off to the side, and thus was,
at least I hoped, sourced from
another location completely.
In any case, no 30-weight ever
came out of my faucets. The
other thing was - and I wasn't
a dummy - sex. I knew there
was some winsome frolic
underway there now and then,
but I intended to not notice. The
girls would come parading in,
and I was pretty sure I knew the
game. What became then
problematic was when one of
the guy's sisters began taking up
with this outside guy named
Bob Satterlee. Cool name.
Bob just happened to have an
Austin Healey 3000, which
Austin Healey 3000 was in
for oil change, plugs, and all
that really basic stuff. Not sure
how any of it occurred, but I
think they all got juiced up,
decided Bob wasn't so cool
for getting free rides with or on
the sister - romancers or not -
and their mighty vengeance
was to trash his car. Next thing
I knew I had a Healey at the
barn, all busted up and damaged
pretty good. I'd known nothing
about this until I started asking,
and then - of one fine morning -
a Pennsylvania State Police car
comes into my drive. Bob had
pressed charges, serious charges,
against the boys. Who were
present at that time - to answer
these charges after first a bevy
of questions were thrown my
way. Did I know? Who was I?
Why were these guys working
in my barn area? Etc. It came
down to nothing for me, just an
unhappy neighbor lending the
boys some space for their work.
But they all got taken away, out
to Towanda, where they were
booked, charged and all that.
At least it was the end of that
poorly designed endeavor into
automotive repair. They were
fined, dunned for repairs, given
some sort of suspended sentences
if they would cooperate to Bob's
satisfaction and get the car back
to what it was. Nothing much
came of any of it after that,
except for Mike Meehan one
time, in a fit, spinning his
Comet out and ending up
front-end-stranded in my pond
and muck. Ducks and geese all
squawking at him, and him all
remorseful. We pulled him out
with a tractor and chain. He
did eventually move to Texas.
Denny Welch, another kid, is
probably still around somewhere.
Same with Jim Watkins, who
at this time was fresh out of
the looney bin and known yet
to be a dangerous character.
I got stories.....The last of these
renegades, one Lloyd Perry, does
probably have his photo up on a
Post Office wall out that way.
I'd be sure of it. I got stories....
-
The little place on the map there,
next to Columbia Crossroads, which
is where lived, (way up the hill,
actually 'Springfield') was called
Big Pond. That's where the Perry
boys lived. Those guys were a
mighty bunch. I swear they'd shoot
at the sky just to see what fell
out of it. Big Pond, well, yes, had
a big pond. And maybe 12 or 14
houses clustered about. Farmlands,
a nice goat farm, sheep, and
some dairy stuff too, but not
much of anything. When you
rounded the bend to Big Pond,
it got so strange and mysterious
(the first thing you passed was
the Perry's old barn, the broad
side of which was covered with
tacked up and spread open to
dry, animal hides and carcasses)
as to almost be 'uninviting.' And
maybe for every 10 who came in,
only 9 left. One time in the mid
1990's there was a big motorcycle
shoot out there; a Pennsylvania
State Trooper had gotten killed,
and this guy from the 'Pagan's
MC' somehow managed to get
to Big Pond to hide out in. They
did catch up with him soon
enough, and a shoot-out ensued.
Might'a even been a Perry boy;
I don't know.
-
That Austin Healey 3000, back
then, was already a classic and a
famed car. It was probably worth
some big bucks for sure. I don't
know what those screw-head
kids were even thinking, in
trashing it, but, between the four
or five of them it probably cost
them ten grand each. I never
knew how they managed any
of that, each being in all other
respects, country-boy paupers.
-
I enjoyed my time with that
bunch - even the girls, as
voraciously prone to the old
insy/outsy they may have been.
(I got that from 'A Clockwork
Orange,' by Anthony Burgess;
except he calls it 'the old in/out.'
It's fun when I can cite the real
classics). I also got beat up
one time, and my living room
trashed, by a drunken Jim
Watkins - I won't go into that
story here, but it involved all
the same people and a birthday
party they threw for someone
after asking if they could use
my living room as the party
site. My wife was away for a
week or two, and I said 'Yeah.'
I was always, and I mean always,
making the same dumb-ass, stupid
errors; behavorial stuff; way
too nice guy stuff, y'know.
The whole point, initially, of
my being up there and living
like that was to be laying low
and invisible, hiding out, in
fact, after my New York City
days and some of the miserable
things I'd been involved with
there. Getting a Saturday morning
State Police visit like that sure
could'a ruined my day if it had
gone wrong. The visit, not the
day. Suffice it to say : It's all
in the past; done. Nearly
50 years ago. Believe that.
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