MORE SUMMER HEAT... lots of it (Part 162d)

MORE SUMMER HEAT… lots of it (Part 162d)

We had the motor in the car and ready to start it up just after midnight. We all wanted to fire it up, just for a few seconds, but Cliffy warned us that if we did his father would throw us out of the shop, no questions asked. Disappointed, but excited, we all headed out. With all the talk about C J’s cylinder heads I’d talked myself into believing they would not only fix our head gasket problem but would make a difference in our performance. I knew we’d be starting in the front, what with all our bad luck, and was actually thinking we’d have a good chance to win. It made for a quick trip home.

Having spent three consecutive nights at the garage I’d not done any of the yard chores… plus the lawn at the church needed to be done. I awoke early Saturday morning and decided to head for the landfill as my first project. Of course there was an ulterior motive behind  it. The garage was only a mile and a half away and I really wanted to be there when Cliffy started the motor for the first time. I wasn’t the only one with that thought as Alan and Joe were there as well. It took about thirty seconds for it to start up and when it did I think we all smiled. To me the motor sounded more powerful but that’s what I wanted to happen. It would take laps on the track to find out if it was so. Back in those times there was a theory that you needed to ‘break in’ a motor. That was to ‘seat in’ the bearings and get the piston rings worn into the cylinder walls. Cliffy told us he was going to let it run at different RPM’s for an hour so there wasn’t anything for us to do. The tools and necessary equipment we'd need had already been loaded so, other than to drive the car up onto the bed of the hauler we were set to go. I was even more excited than I was back waiting for opening night.

I had to ‘hustle’ to get everything done that I’d wanted to do. When the hauler stopped in front of the house I’d just slipped on my pants. Between the money Cliffy had gotten from the Snap-On tools guy and the cash the rest of us were able to scrounge up we still didn’t have enough for two  new tires. That was the only negative thing as we drove the hour to the track. Once there Cliffy went to the tire guy to see if he’d let us owe the twenty or so dollars we were short. His reaction was one that none of us expected. Not only did he say “Yes” to the request but he told us he’d give us a third tire… free. He’d been keeping ’tabs’ on Cliffy and from what he hold him, no one had had more bad luck than he did. So, with three new tires, a rebuilt motor with special heads we were all ‘flying high’.

We started on the ‘pole’ (first place) and won our qualifying heat with no problem. We also started there for the feature event. I wish I could report that we won but we ended up second… passed by C J on the last turn of the last lap. However, the disappointment was short lived. Just to be able to finish a race was almost as good as winning. The $1,000 money for first would’ve been nice but the $650 for second looked awfully good after not winning any money at all for six weeks. We were all gathered around Cliffy after he exited the car when C J walked up and stuck out his hand to congratulate Cliffy. To me it should’ve been the other way around because with out those heads we wouldn’t have even been at the track. C J, a man of few words, headed back to his pit area and, on the way, passed his father, 'Seeg' who was headed in our direction. Once there, he insisted the the whole crew come down to C J’s pit area and make it a joint celebration. At first, Cliffy declined but when he saw Dick, Alan and Joe headed there he followed along.

I’d witnessed some of the ‘celebrations’ after a C J win and knew it would be a raucous time. For me, personally, I was looking forward to observing Karen, C J’s girlfriend, up close and personal more than the food and drink. It proved to be a little more difficult than I would’ve liked because C J had so many fans. Patience paid off because as the crowd started to drift away I saw her sitting on a tool box bent over and tying her shoe. The lights in the pits were poor so many of the teams brought small portable spot lights that they could plug into the electric boxes placed in each pit stall. For me, the light was just what I needed. The gap between her t-shirt and her white pants showed panties with tube elastic… and there were only two manufacturers that I was aware of at that time… VanRaalte and Kayser both high quality that used that technique. While observing I got to wondering where she got them because the only place I could find VanRaalte was at my friend Judith’s boutique and that was 20+ miles in the wrong direction from where she was living. Just another ‘puzzle’ to contemplate while lying awake in bed.

Believe it or not I have no memory of the sailing races on Sunday. The only memory I have of that day was Barbara’s father called that night and asked if it would be OK for Barbara to stay for another week. There was some sort of problem in meeting the village building code. My only complaint had been that Elle wouldn’t let me get much ‘panty play’ and absolutely no lovemaking because she wouldn’t allow our bedroom door to be closed. One thing that helped in that vein was that Elle had her period for one week. There really wasn’t much I could say against her staying. She’d proven to be a help, especially with keeping the kids occupied. I’d had a few good peeks and with the added time she was to be there I hoped there might be some more. With the ‘busy period' at the bank behind me I was counting on getting back home by 6pm and eating with the kids (and Barbara).

As far as work was concerned my mind was on Morris and his upcoming visit with Bert, Hobie, Gee and the other Board member concerning the poor branch opening we’d experienced. I had no idea how it would go and, at least from what Hobie told me, he didn’t either. Morris had finally agreed to meet with them on Tuesday. Both sides compromised on the site and, ironically, they chose the restaurant where Jerry had done his interviewing. Geographically, it was about half the distance from the city to the main office plus Morris could take a train both coming and going. They were meeting for lunch and the train back to the city was around 2:30pm so they weren’t going to have a lot of time. All I knew for sure was that I wanted to be a fly on the wall while they talked.

With that time line I figured they would be back around 3:30pm. When my watch went past 4pm I began to wonder if they would come back at all… and they didn’t. I think I was more disappointed than anything else. Bret and I used the time to compare our notes on Jerry during his time at the main office. I’d kept pretty detailed ones and was surprised with what Bret had done. We joked that we should write a book about him. Bret wanted to name it “Working With The Pretender” since that’s what we called him from almost the time he’d started working with us. The frustration with him was clearly more with me than Bret but like the old saying… “Out of sight, out of mind”… was in play for both of us now with him at the branch. Unfortunately, I was the one to oversee him while he was there. In any case, our chat helped pass the time away.

To be continued…