ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153d)

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153d)

The team consisted of Cliffy, Dick, Alan, Buster, Joey and me. Cliffy and Dick were in Elle’s class from the fifth grade on. Alan and Buster were a year or two behind them and Joe just appeared at the shop one day. I’d been friends with Cliffy since we were fifteen and, before I had my own racecar, I’d been a part of the group who went to the races with his father’s car so knew Dick, Alan and Buster from way back then. Joey was the only unmarried. Cliffy’s wife, Beth was a few years younger than the rest of us and came from the next town to the East. They had three kids, a girl a year older than Jean, my oldest and two boys somewhere between my Anne and my Kaye. Dick’s, wife went by the nickname, Raa. They had two girls and one was friendly with my Anne. They lived right across the road in a big old Victorian house. Alan had married a girl from near the city who spent her Summers in the area. They had two toddlers but I really didn’t know her because she didn’t like racing and hadn’t been at the track when I was hanging with Cliffy. Buster was also married but I'd been told that his wife, Marilyn, was, to put it bluntly, a bitch. I’d also been told by Dick that the others weren’t going to let him join the team because of her but they needed his money. I didn’t know her and wasn’t looking forward to meeting her what with that reputation.

The meeting about the racecar was at the repair shop his father owned and where Cliffy worked. It was a really big space and there were all kinds of farm tractors and farm vehicles there. The racecar was over in a corner and covered with dust. From a distance it looked pretty sad. Cliffy explained that farmers would put off doing repairs to their equipment until it was almost time for the new planting season and then want it done yesterday. Cliffy’s father had some success in getting them to bring their stuff in early by giving them a break in the hourly rate he charged. Looking at at least a half dozen different types of equipment it seemed like it worked. He told us the racecar didn’t need all that much work so the plan was to wait until the first of April to start to go over it. The season was to start the first Saturday in May which was over two months away. Hearing that, with my interest at a high peak, was a bit of a disappointment.

Cliffy’s father had owned racecars since 1953 and had won track championships back in those days. Upon graduation Cliffy (and Dick) joined the Navy and his father stopped racing. At the end of his service duty Cliffy talked his father into building him a racecar and he’d been racing since 1960. His father’s car number had been 8 at the beginning but when he came back that number was taken. Cliffy decided he wanted a number that had an eight in it and had raced for a few years with number 78. They didn’t have a lot of luck so changed it to 28. The first year with that number he won the track championship and that qualified him to race at Daytona. However, the luck with that number seemed to have faded so the first order of business for us was to choose a new number. Cale Yarborough, driving a Ford had just won the big 500 mile race at Daytona with a car numbered 21. We pretty much all agreed that was a good number and, after a bit decided to go with that. Cliffy’s father had a love of the color red and when someone suggested that we change the color as well, since he no longer owned the car, we chose maroon and off white to go with the new number. The source of the idea... they were the colors of the winning car at Daytona. I, as a sign painter, agreed to come up with a design for the colors and would paint the numbers on the car. It made me feel like I was a real part of the team. As we were breaking up Cliffy proposed that we have a party to inaugurate the new team. He offered to host it and said his wife would let everyone know when. Another party was not what I needed on my schedule but...

The town team basketball wasn’t going well but we were sort of getting into shape after three games and were no longer an embarrassment. Jack’s wife, Bobo, continued to root for us from the bench and to provide home made goodies. For me, it was an occasional DP. I was still intrigued with the type panties she wore based upon the stitching in the waist elastic. I’d managed to get one VPL but it wasn’t all that big meaning it was a small crotch. At least she gave me something to ponder when sitting on the bench (which I did a lot of). It was on Presidents Day that an unexpected opportunity arose for me when Jack called to ask a favor. He was getting his suburban serviced and they had found something wrong. He had no choice but to wait. He realized that he’d neglected to drop his dry cleaning off at the laundromat. (He was more than just a coach at school as he also was a 6th grade teacher. Back in those days teachers still had to adhere to a dress code.) He told me that his wife would "kill him“ if it didn’t get done and all I had to do was get it and drop it off. I asked where Bobo was and was told she and a girlfriend had gone shopping at the regional mall. Not really thinking about the opportunity I asked why he'd called me. It was because I didn't live that far from him and town. I was a little bummed because I was counting on the time to work on a big sign in my basement... but he was a good guy so I said I‘d help him out. He told me where the key to the back door was hidden and where the clothes were located. I was at the bottom of the driveway when it came to me... WOW! was my immediate thought.

Summer bungalows in our area were like small communities, clustered in various areas that pretty much were in walking distance of the water be it the Bay or the Sound. Driving down the road to his house (it was more like a path) I remembered the times before I had a driving license and had to use a boat to get to this particular area. Fond memories, for sure. I found the cottage and quickly had the key. He'd told me the clothes were supposed to be hanging in a hall closet but there wasn’t anything but coats in it. I took a look around trying to find them thinking that maybe Bobo had taken them when she left. It was a three bedroom dwelling but only one had any size to it. I walked in and even though I was supposed to be searching for the clothes I spied the dresser and went right for it. The second drawer down held the prizes.

To be continued...