Rhoda asked... story from the SS lifestyle

[Joel_BC]

Rhoda asked about "wild stories" from the SS life. I'm putting one on here, in the next post window. This is a write-up I did from true stories my uncle has lived... here in this valley. This is a valley where very many of the people are committed to the SS life, in one variant or another and to one degree or another.

This will be one story from many I'm working with - both old and newer. But this one takes us back several decades... to, I'm sure, what must have been the good old days.

 

[Joel_BC]

Jim Nesbitt sat at a table with his down-valley pal Arthur. The two builders had been discussing prospects and details of some paying work, a possible upcoming job at a community centre approaching completion in stages, about six miles south and west along the back road. The two had been to the site to look into the next phase of construction. Jim didnt eat in cafs much, and when he did it was a special occasion that normally included his wife, Sheila, and their little son, Garath. But this lunch was just part of the job scope-out with Art.

Jim and Sheila always needed money, hence Jim always needed work. The realities had recently forced a shift of focus, as theyd had a Jeep station wagon when their life was conceived as recreation; the Jeep was sold not long ago, so Jim could buy a used Ford pickup. At this point, they were leasing a piece of land and were trying to save money to put a down payment on their own place someday soon.

Jim finished his burger, chips, and beer pretty much when Art finished his own. He fished money out of his wallet for the food, and a bit to leave for a tip for the waitress. A few parting words with Art about researching some building-material costs and keeping in touch by phone, and then Jim walked out the caf door.

The day was fair. Nice temperature, a blue sky with just some high mares tail cloud. Jim dug between his teeth with a toothpick as he walked toward the road.

A sizable dark-coloured mutt crossed the highway and made it to the other side just ahead of a transport truck rolling southward at fairly slow speed. Jim waited, then started to cross the road from the greasy-spoon side toward the side with the parking lot and gas pumps. His next destination was the little convenience store run by the gas-station family, where hed see if he could get a few items on the list that Sheila had handed him before he left the house. As he got halfway across, he heard a womans voice call out his name from over by the store.

Jim looked across to see a tall, sturdy woman with shoulder-length blond hair standing by the store wall, waving to him. It was his friend Dags sister, Birget Christainsen. Jim smiled. Birget and her husband, Dave, had been friendly with Jim and Sheila when both couples had met at a down-valley outdoor party a couple years back. Neither Jim nor Sheila had seen Birget or Dave in nearly a year. Jim approached her. She was no longer just that able-bodied archetype of the robust, flaxen-haired Norse woman shed always epitomized she now appeared to be at least six months pregnant. Seeing her stirred a vague recollection of some news that Birget and Dave were expecting. Birgets present attire was a loose Guatemalan top and knee-length skirt, appropriate enough for an expectant woman to wear. There was a bag of groceries on the ground beside her.

Hey, Birget. Jim said as he stepped alongside her. Look at you!

She was about to make small talk when she spotted the big road-crossing mutt. It seemed possibly like Newfoundland-German Shepard cross, and the frisky dog came trotting up in front of her. Birget knit her brow, made fists, and snarling F**k off ! kicked the animal hard, catching him in the left rib-cage, forcing a yelp out of him. Shed knocked him nearly a foot away.

The dejected dog whimpered and trotted off. Whoa! was Jims immediate thought. Of course, this was a locality of surprises. Shes a real valley woman, was his next thought.

Birgets annoyed look faded while she watched the dog flee. Then she looked at Jim and said, I loath that crotch sniffer he and I met a couple months ago. Sorry bout that. Anyways, how ya doin, Jim? She shifted her gaze up to the blue sky. Great day, eh?

You bet. Despite his mixed feelings, Jim emitted an incredulous laugh.

His laugh made Birget smile, as the spectacle of the scene finally dawned on her. Then she changed the subject. Sheila with you?

Shes at home, Jim said. I came down for a little business. Im just gonna go in here and get a few things Sheila wants.

I wont keep ya, Birget said. I gotta get home and get off my feet! Kick back. My neighbour Paulines in the post office, and Im riding with her. Say hi to Sheila. I know Dave would enjoy seeing you. Birget smiled, picked up her bag, and walked to the post-office door.

Jim went into the store, got the things on the list and came back out. He glanced in the post office door and saw no one in there but the busy postmistress. Birget and her neighbor must have driven homeward. Walking across the asphalt parking area near the gas pumps, Jim noticed a teenager with lengthy red hair approaching him. The kid had a joint in his hand and was holding it out toward Jim, glancing slightly nervously toward the door of the store.

Got a light? the freckle-faced boy asked, looking at Jim with friendly green eyes. Jim noticed the kid was wearing grimy jeans and a t-shirt with a curly-haired hockey player pictured on it. Words above the image read, I Dig Bobby Clarke. The kid seemed like the offspring of a local valley family. It also seemed as though he wanted to trade a light for some tokes.

Nah, I quit smoking, Jim said with a smile. Dont carry a lighter. He was wary of mixing contact with the kids of the old families with marijuana. The boy looked disappointed, perhaps a bit surprised. He went his way.

Jim crossed the highway with his bag of canned goods, got into the Ford pickup hed left in the parking lot, and started it up. He pulled out and turned left onto the highway to drive home.

Near the bridge crossing the creek, there was a hairy hitchhiker standing, thumb out, on the shoulder. Jim slowed down, pulled off to the side, rolled down the passenger-side window. Where are you trying to get to?

Up north to the village, the man replied.

Okay. Get in. The guy put his rucksack down in the truck bed, and stepped inside the cab. He smelled like cigarettes and alcohol. Jim pulled out and resumed the northward drive.

You live in the valley, Jim asked.

Sometimes, the hitchhiker replied. I come out here sometimes. You got a place out here?

Yeah, sort of, Jim said. My wife and kid and I are leasing a few acres with buildings. They were both quiet for nearly five minutes. The guy seemed like he could be a tradesman, like Jim himself. But Jim didnt feel much like getting to know him.

I just came back out from the coast, the hitchhiker finally said. Its fun out there!

Yeah? Jim said. He shifted into high gear for the straightaway.

Oh, yeah, the guy replied. You know the disco scene?

Dancing to records instead of live music?

Its a club scene. People get really dressed up. If you have a friend with some serious money, you snort a couple lines, he said, pausing. The women are elegant, you know?

Hmm, Jim said. Somehow, disco had never sounded like his cup of tea. He downshifted for the curves.

Shake, shake, shake Shake Your Booty, the hitchhiker sort of sang, chuckling.

Hows that? Jim wasnt sure he understood his meaning. A pop tune?

KC and the Sunshine Band? the hitchhiker raised an eyebrow, fishing for some glimmer of recognition.

Mm a group with a hit on the radio. Right? Jim answered, wanting to sound like maybe he wasnt completely bushed living here in the valley.

Yeah, thats right. The hitchhiker smiled as he looked up the road. They rode mostly in silence.

The hitchhiker got out in the village, pulling his rucksack with him and voicing his thanks. Jim drove northward some more until he got to the gravel driveway to his place. He turned in, then parked the pickup by the house and carried the bag of groceries to his house.

Shelia was in the kitchen, washing dishes. Hey, Jim said, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He grabbed a clean glass. Wheres Garath?

He went down for a nap about a half hour ago, she replied.

I gotta tell you about this bizarre thing that happened at the store down the valley, Jim said. I came across the highway from the caf and I heard

Jim, I do want to hear about that, Sheila cut him off, but I should mention theres somebody waiting for you out by the tool shed.

Who?

I dont know him. Says his name is Andy. Says our neighbours Patty and Dirk sent him over to meet you.

Oh, okay, Jim said, looking a little baffled. Andy, eh? Ill just get a drink of water and go on out there. Jim drew some water from the faucet and drank.

As he did so, Shelia told him that only a couple hours ago Patty, over the phone, had been sharing some stories drawn from her and Dirks stay down in Mexico, the previous winter. I sure hope we have the extra money before too long, Sheila sighed, so we can go to Mexico or someplace.

Yeah, thatd be nice, Jim replied abstrctedly. Because actually he was puzzling about this fellow, Andy, who was waiting for him. Jim finished drinking and headed out the door.

Approaching the shed, Jim spotted a lean, black-haired fellow of about forty hunkered down, back against the wall, smoking a cigarette. He stood up as he saw Jim draw near. Hi, Im Andy, he said. His eyes were friendly, but he didnt grin.

Jim, he responded, sticking out his hand to shake. I just got back here. Heard you were looking for me?

Yeah. I was over at Dirk and Patricias place, visiting. Andy somehow had the air of someone who didnt do a lot of joking kind of taciturn, it seemed. Initial impressions, though Jim realized that some people take a while to get to know. But Andy did like to look around and savor the scenery, that was evident.

Who was this tanned guy in the old sweater and faded black denim pants? Jim figured hed just let things unfold.

Then Andy stepped-out his cigarette and spoke. I heard you had a chainsaw thats been giving you trouble. Thought Id come over and meet you, and have a look at the saw if you like.

Great! You know stuff about engines, eh? Jim asked, trying to get a grasp; Andy must have heard about the dead chainsaw from Dirk, up the hill. You live around here? Weve never seen each other before, I dont think.

No, Andy said. I wander around the valley, stay with friends. Meet new people. I do a bit of wood cutting. He pointed to the Husqvarna on the dirt floor of the shed. That the saw thats been giving you trouble?

Yeah, thats it. It was cutting out and losing power last time I used it. Now I cant get it to start. If Id have had pressing need, I guess Id have driven it to town to take it to the shop. But I hate to do that their hourly rate! They charge an arm and a leg, Jim shook his head. Andy nodded.

Mind if I have a look?

Go right ahead. Jim was delighted that this genial guy just walked over from the neighbours and made this offer.

Andy held the saw and pulled the cord five or six times. Dead. Not one encouraging sputter. He placed the machine on the nearby workbench. He twisted the retaining knob on the air-cleaner cover and removed the cover. Looking up he asked, Got tools nearby?

Yeah, Ive got some over here. Jim stepped over to the other side of the shed, opened a banged-up metal box, and lifted out a tray full of pliers, wrenches, and screwdrivers. He brought it over and put it on the bench next to where Andy stood.

Andy fished out a wrench, unhooked a wire on the saws motor, and in a minute or two had the sparkplug out. He checked it, cleaned it with a pen knife, pushed at it with a screwdriver to adjust it, and screwed it back into place. He detached the fuel line, and in another couple minutes he had the carburetor off. He inspected it and asked Jim for some gasoline or parts solvent and a rag, and Jim obliged him with a can and a cloth. Andys face grew intent as he worked, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

In no more than fifteen minutes from the start, Andy had reassembled the machine, pulled on its cord a few times, and had it running strong. He took a screwdriver and made a couple adjustments. These made the machine sound even better, and when he squeezed the trigger, it roared. Impressed, Jim laughed out loud. Then Andy shut the saw off.

Jim smiled with gratitude at Andy and shook his head, a little awed. What do I owe you? It was always a reflex with Jim to offer compensation.

Oh, you dont owe me anything, Andy said, putting tools back in the tray. I enjoyed looking around the place here. I hear youre leasing it? Anyways, youve got a nice family thing here. Okay, well I think Ill just walk around the neighbourhood.

They shook hands again. Then, saying, See you around, long-legged Andy turned and strode back in the general direction of Dirk and Patricias place. Jim watched him walking away at an easy pace.

Jim tidied up the tool shed a little. He walked back to the house and went in. Shelia was just coming out of Garaths room. Hes still sleeping, she said.

Jim was shaking his head, a peculiar smile on his face. That was both strange and amazing! he said. Id never met that guy, and didnt really have time to get to know him. But he scoped-out our chainsaw and fixed it like a master mechanic. For free. And then he just left! Real gentle vibe to the guy. Jim looked a mite perplexed. But he added, Chainsaw runs great now.

Hey! Shelia exclaimed at the cheery news. Well, listen While you were down at the shed, I called Dirk and Pattys, and I talked with Patty a bit. I asked about that guy Andy, I mean. She said that Dirk and her dont know him too well, really. But what theyve picked up is that the guy made what he calls a Buddhist vow to fix peoples chainsaws whenever hes around anybody having trouble with one. Sheila kind of looked down and broke into a giggle.

Really? Jim marveled.

Yeah, she continued. Patty said people call him Chainsaw Andy.

Ha! Jim smiled as he walked toward the door.

Before long, Garath was up and around, and hungry. Sheila gave him a scrubbed carrot to take the edge off his appetite. She worked toward supper while Jim busied himself outside, rototilling part of the garden.

Every now and again, Jim couldnt help but reflect on his unusual path-crossing with Andy. This valley they all lived in was truly out of the ordinary. And, with Jims mind replaying the sight of Andy walking toward the neighbours, it almost seemed plausible to him that that guy had actually been some disguised sightseeing angel strolling oer the Earth.

 

[rhoda_bruce]

That is kinda wild. Every now and then I think something really crazy happens, like that and you can't explain it. I received a gift card, hand delivered to me once from a grocery store. I have no idea who was behind that one, or why.

 

[Team Chaos]

Hey, I was born in the disco era- don't be callin' it "the good old days". Ha ha ha, good story- nice writing. Your style reminds me of Michael Perry http://sneezingcow.com/