Drive - A Memoir 55th Installment
heat
it until it cooks off,” I said, under thinking it. We put the butt
end of the tie rod against the cottonwood tree and held the other end
up with a makeshift tripod. We took a ten foot long pipe and rolled
the end up with a rag that we had smeared through and through with
tar. After using a bunch of gas to get the tar off our hands and a
small amount on the torch, we were ready to fire. I lit the tar and
it flamed nicely. Then we held it under the tie rod connector end and
waited. We took turns holding the heavy torch, and finally, we were
both holding it. Just moments after I said, “This is taking too
long.” !!!KABOOM!!! The loudest and most forceful shock I have ever
heard or felt. The copse of trees in the line of fire all shook
violently and branches rained down. Some of the limbs were about two
inches; others were smaller, but a hundred branches cascaded down –
enough to kindle fires all winter. The butt end of the rod had kicked
out a large piece of bark and had buried the end into the tree a
small distance. Russell’s mouth was moving, but I didn’t hear a
human voice – only an incessant roar in my ears. My vision was wet
and blurred, and my skin tingled with a slight sunburn feel. After a
short time, my senses recovered from this outrage, and I could hear
again. “We should have pointed this thing at the outhouse! It would
have blown the crapper to bits,” I exclaimed, probably too loudly.
“No!
We’ve done enough damage already. Don’t you ever stop to think
how dangerous this was?” Russell was older; therefore, he was more
responsible. Then the so called more responsible co–conspirator of
mayhem – Russ, of course – asked, “Where’s Bootsey Monte
Everett Rudd?”
“See
that mound of real nice clothes lying in that bunch of weeds?” I
pointed. “That’s Bootsey Monte Everett Rudd, or the canon scared
the pants off him and he ran away buck naked.” It was then we heard
the low moaning or maybe crying. “But look on the bright side; he
could be singing,” I joked. We helped him up, although he didn’t
seem to want to be touched. He backed away, slowly, eyes darting back
and forth between Russ and me. Then he turned and hot footed it for
Ted and Amber’s place at a full out run. We watched him go; I
guess waiting to see if he would ever look back. He didn’t.
“There
goes our only chance to hear stories about Boston,”
I
said. I’m sure he would have told us about the skyline of tall
buildings jutting across the horizon, but, I thought, we have the
majestic Rocky Mountains spreading across our horizon. Maybe he would
have told us of the highways full of traffic jams
500 more words tomorro
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