MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172x)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172x)

One thing I remember about that moment was Cliffy standing there with the phone receiver down by his side and shaking his head. Robob was the first to speak and he said he’d call his contact back. Cliffy told “Big B” to call back in about a half hour and let him know what to do. I thought the whole deal was over but listened as Robob talked to his friend. When I saw him smile and give a ‘thumbs up’ signal I couldn’t imagine what was going on. None of us knew the relationship of Robob’s contact with him but it was strong enough for him to release the cylinder heads over to “Big B” without money changing hands. I wasn’t about to question it. All I knew was that we needed cylinder heads to be able to race and, supposedly, we were going to get them. When “Big B” called back he was given the information to make contact with Robob’s friend. The bad news was that “B” wouldn’t be back until Sunday. For me, hearing that was almost as good as finding that we were going to be able to get the heads as it would give me all day Saturday to get to some of the things I needed to do. When we left the shop it was the happiest I’d seen the others since we won on opening night. We all were convinced we’d be racing the following Saturday night and couldn’t wait.

For me, it was another night in my recliner. It meant for an early start in the morning. My agenda included getting our Sunfish sailboats down to the sailing club; continuing with the opening up of the sailing club facilities; mowing both the lawn at the house and the church and then working on the sign. I started with getting the boats out of the garage and down to the club. As I mentioned before, Rex, the unpaid facilities manager of the club, had been injured at work and had convinced his brother to fill in for him the previous weekend. But, John was not as organized as his brother and even after a whole day there was still a lot left to do. The official club opening was the following weekend, so Rex, although not able to do any physical labor, had stepped in (as usual) and got commitments from some of the male club members and their wives to get the necessary items taken care of. Upon my arrival I saw Rex propped up in a  rocking chair at the base of the clubhouse steps. There was a lot of ‘action’ around the back of the building and I asked what was going on. With a scowl on his face he told me the company that usually got the sand out of the cesspools had been sold and the new owner wouldn’t let his equipment go out onto the beach. Rex contacted with a local landscaper and they had sent some workers to dig the sand out by hand. But, the ‘action” I’d noticed was a couple of the members propping some of the storm shutters up against the back side of the clubhouse. With no water there were no bathrooms and what was being created was to provide some privacy when the ladies needed to ‘go’ under the clubhouse. Needless to say, my perverted mind went into overdrive.

The male members had all the furniture out of the building by mid morning which allowed the ladies, who started arriving about then, the ability to give the facilities a good cleaning. One set of stairs needed to be rebuilt so John, Marty (the guy who’d joined the club at the end of the previous season) and I took on that project. It had us working in the front of the building and as we progressed I noticed that I could get a brief glimpse when the women would duck behind the propped up storm shutters. It was anything but a clear line of sight but it was still a bit titillating to watch them pull their shorts or pants down and then squat to pee. As in past years the club paid for hot dogs and hamburgers for lunch with the ladies doing the cooking. Since I’d been there the previous weekend I told Rex I’d be leaving in the early afternoon. By then the cesspools had been cleared of sand and John was about to turn the water on. I observed one of the ladies doing a ‘pee dance’ right after the announcement. (The power of suggestion?) I decided to stick around for a few more minutes ‘just for kicks’. The woman had started up the stairs and when I figured she was going to make it turned towards the parking lot. Then I heard Marty call and turned around to see him jogging towards me with a hammer in his hand. I’d forgotten it and as I turned back could see the woman who had the ‘problem’ now with one hand jammed between her legs. From where Marty and I were there was no reason for me to head in her direction without it being obvious. Marty turned back to where he’d come from and I was left standing in the path to the parking lot with the hammer in my hand… and trying to see the outcome of the woman’s predicament… but couldn’t bring myself to take the chance of embarrassing both of us by heading for the stairs. Sadly (for me) I never found out what happened but I sure had a fantasy or two about it.

Back at home the station wagon was gone which, for the moment, was a good thing. Staring at the board to be used for the sign made me mad all over again. In getting the sailboats out of the garage I’d left things in disarray but, my anger over the sign made me say “screw it!” to myself and headed for the shed out behind the garage to get the lawn mower. To get there I had to walk along the property line that separated my land from the farm. As I did I saw a man attempting to dig a hole into the berm that acted as the separator for both our properties. I’d met the new owner’s daughter and sister-in-law but hadn’t yet met the husband (the owner’s son) and thought this would be a good time to do it… and to possibly prevent him from doing something that he shouldn’t be doing with his digging. I introduced myself and was told he went by the name of “Junior”. I, being a ‘junior’ myself, smiled and asked if there was a reason. He laughed and proceeded to ask if I’d like to go through life as “Murgatroyd” (sp?). I noticed right away that he certainly wasn’t dressed appropriately for what he was doing so asked abut that. He told me he was digging a pit to compost garbage because his mother liked to use natural fertilizer on her plants. I didn’t see his wife, Matty, approach but when I did I had to smile (to myself) as she was wearing a tennis dress. The prevailing wind in the afternoons was from the Southwest and it had started to pick up. I watched her take the last few steps towards us and could see the hem sort of flouncing up and down. If I’d been on my knees there might’ve been something to see. I could only look that way for a short period of time to avoid being obvious. Martha had come out to see how long Junior would be as she was off to the school tennis courts to hit against the backboard. She wanted her husband to look after their daughter but, for some reason, didn’t want her out near the farm. When I’d seen Junior trying to dig the hole I saw he was struggling a bit and this request was his excuse to get out of it. He put the shovel down, looked at me telling me we’d have to get together soon and walked off with his wife. It was perfect for me… with the wind behind her it caught the hem of her skirt and lifted it up for a few brief (pun intended) seconds reminding me that the new neighbors might be worth getting to know.

To be continued…