The Grantville Gazette - Vol 9 Part 41

Trent was up before the sun the next day, moving by memory in the cool of the pre-dawn darkness. He opened the garage door, and when the sun was peeking over the hill to the east, he pushed the car out onto the drive for the first time. He looked at his checklist. He rechecked the tire pressures, walkedaround the car one more time, mentally going over each system that he had built or modified. Finally he was satisfied. He stepped back and looked at his creation. It did look a little like a dune buggy. Lower by a bit, too small of wheels and tires, but the thing did have a roll cage, two seats, and a steering wheel.

He sat further forward and lower than he would have with a typical dune buggy, a compromise with the ATV roots of the cha.s.sis. He simplified things by keeping it only two wheel drive, and lost the extra weight of the transfer case and the drive shaft. Besides, four wheel drive is nice, but it is a little more difficult to hang the tail out through a corner. Maybe on the next design. He took another step back.

Yeah, a dune buggy or maybe something out of one those old Mel Gibson movies, with the post-apocalyptic road racers. Come to think of it, his whole situation wasn't that far off from those movies. He smiled in antic.i.p.ation.

The sun was now fully over the hill, and the dew was disappearing as soon as the light hit it. It was time.

He double checked the fuel level, and snaked his way into the seat around the rollcage. The seatbelt was scavenged from some GM car, it still had the emblem on it, he noted as he snapped it in place. He wasn't sure about the windshield, or if it would fully protect him from the wind. But this was the time to find out.

He took a deep breath and let it out. He could hear his heart pounding as he reached for the ignition switch.

"Okay, Trent. You're as nervous as you were the first time on a racetrack. This is just a test drive.

You're not going to push this thing very fast, you're just going to check everything out and make sure nothing is going to fall off. Take it easy, okay, buddy? Just take it easy."

He pushed the switch for the starter to crank and the motor instantly jumped to life. The sound was different with the motor behind him; in the open air it was less nasty, not as harsh. But it was clearly not your typical ATV either. He blipped the throttle a couple of times and allowed the motor to rev and then fall. With the machining he did on the flywheel, and the increased compression, the motor lost revs quickly. It sounded nasty.

He caught sight of the three brothers from next door, running across the yards toward his open garage.

The noise of the motor brought them out of the house at a dead run. He waved them to the front porch of his old man's house. They hesitated, but he waved them there again. They finally complied, dejectedly.

He sat in the car, listening to the motor as it came up to temperature. Since the Ring of Fire, he'd felt like he was on another planet. That is how different things were. He smiled and waved at the boys.You want different? Here is different. Look out 1634 Germany, and all of you pedestrians, oxcarts, and buggies. Mario Haygood is back in business.

He decided to show off a little. He pushed in the clutch, revved it, let the clutch out too fast with the revs too low, and promptly stalled it. Not what he planned.

Joe whistled at him. "Way to go, Trent. You want me to drive that thing for you?" The other two laughed.

Trent just made a face and restarted the motor. "Nice and easy. Test drive, remember?" He felt his ears burning red in the cool of the morning. "Easy out on the clutch, remember the lightened flywheel that makes it a little harder, ease it out, let it roll, and there we go."

He was doing it. He was driving again. He eased the thing into second gear and picked up a little speed down the driveway. He tapped the brakes, and they grabbed evenly. Back down to first gear, the motor made a nice sound on the downshift. He was at the end of the drive. He had planned to only go to the end of the drive and back, but the motor was just up to temperature, and it felt solid. He smiled. Whynot? He turned left down the street and headed out to Route 250, the main drag through the valley.

"Just down to two-fifty. Check the brakes at a little higher speed." His local street had a little curve to it, so he moved the wheel back and forth to check the steering and suspension. It felt okay. A bit twitchy, nervous. Like the steering was too sensitive for the car. "d.a.m.n," he thought. "I didn't think of that. I just used the steering rack that I had, didn't think about the steering ratios." Still it wasn't that bad. It still worked. It was just something that he needed to get used to. He came to the intersection of his street and Route 250. He could just pull out, and use the wider road to turn around. But what the heck. He looked at the gauges again, tugged at his seatbelt, and turned left, away from town.

"Just run it up to third gear, see how it handles a little bit." So he did, and then fourth gear, and finally fifth gear. He was just loping along with very low revs, well off the power band, just lugging along. . . "Idiot!"

he yelled. He pushed in the clutch and revved the motor. "Don't lug this motor. It is the only one you have." The low revs and the load on the motor could have damaged a rod bearing. "Think. This is the only one of these you will ever have. Don't break it the first time out." He pulled to the side of the road and revved the motor a couple of times. Sounded good. Good oil pressure.

"Okay. Seems to be all right. Let's just turn this thing around and head back. Make sure everything is tight." He paused. "Well, I suppose I could just run up two-fifty to the high school, turn around and come home." He smiled. He didn't stall it this time as he got the thing moving. The motor was making good horsepower and the suspension was softer than he thought it would be. Everything was feeling good. He paused again, and a face cracking grin slowly spread across his face. "What the h.e.l.l. Let's open it up a little."

Opal Sizemore loved her police scanner. It sat in the center of her bedroom dresser in the extended care facility. The scanner let her know what was happening in town all the time. She had loved it before the Ring of Fire, and had used it to monitor both the police and fire department. As she shuffled past her dresser that morning, she heard the scanner come alive as it had not in a long time.

"Ahh, Dispatch, this is Car Two. Southbound on Route 250, by the high school, in pursuit of, uhh-stand by, Dispatch . . . We think it is some sort of dune buggy, no plates."

That would be Ralph Onofrio, she thought. He sounds like he's a little excited.

"Did you say in pursuit, Car Two?"

Opal sat on the edge of her bed in front of the scanner. This was the best thing that had happened in a while! Certainly more fun than that Croat raid. Opal figured that today Angela Baker was running dispatch.

"That's affirmative, Dispatch. We are in pursuit."

"Haven't had one of those in a while."

"Yup, that was Angela all right," thought Opal. She always did have a dry sense of humor.

"Technically, ahh, Dispatch, since Heinrich is uhhh-driving, this is his first one ever."

"Dispatch copies that. What is your speed and position?" "We just pa.s.sed the mine road cut off, top speed so far is only seventy-five, but there are some straight parts up here . . ."

"Roger that, Car Two. Be advised the street cleaner's wagon had its wheel break. It's at the outside of the funeral home curve. It was not all the way off the road; use caution. The tow-wagon has been dispatched."

"Car Two copies, Dispatch. Heinrich, remember the wagon up here. Heinrich. Heinrich rememb--! The s.h.i.t WAGON! s.h.i.t WA . . ."

Opal leaned closer to the scanner. She heard a squeal of tires, some thumps, like they hit something, and then a long squishing rumbling sound. And then silence, as Ralph must have released his grip on the microphone. She pursed her lips. It sounded like Angela was worried, too.

"Car Two, do you copy? Car Two, do you copy?"

"Stand by, Dispatch. We have a-well, just stand by. We have uhh-broken off pursuit. Yeah.

Broken off the pursuit."

"Copy that. You have broken off the pursuit. Do you require a.s.sistance?"

"We think it was Trent Haygood, Dispatch. I recognize the driving. n.o.body else would be that fast. Wait unit I get my hands . . ."

"Dispatch copies. Do you require a.s.sistance?"

"Well, uhh, sort of, Angela. There's the street cleaner's wagon still out here that will need towing and repair, and the county trucks need to get out here with something to pick up, oh maybe, 'bout a ton of horse s.h.i.t off the road."

Opal noticed there was a long pause.

"Do you copy, Dispatch? Angela?"

"Dispatch copies. A ton?"

Opal heard laughter in the background, behind Angela's transmission. Quite a lot of laughter.

"Affirmative. And have Heinrich's wife bring him a change of clothes. He had his window open when we b.u.mped the parked wagon. He almost got the car stopped, and he just touched the jack.

The wagon teetered for a moment, and it uhhh-yeah. I'm gonna tell her-they're gonna find out sometime, Heinrich-sorry, Dispatch. But it seems the wagon dumped the better part of the load into the driver's window."

"Copy that. So you hit a load of horses.h.i.t. In a high-speed pursuit. In 1634."

"That about covers it."

Opal clutched her sweater around her neck. And then laughed like she had not laughed in the last ten years. "Car One, Dispatch."

"Go ahead, Dispatch, this is Car One."

"Car One, you need to respond to the traffic accident and write it up."

"Already on the way. We just wish we had some film left in the camera."

They found that Opal had pa.s.sed away in her room later that morning, when she failed to show up for breakfast. She had a curious smile on her face.

"Well, how did't go?" Manny was jumping up and down.

Trent had come flying up the driveway, braked hard, and then pulled the car into the garage and closed the door. He was now sitting on the porch with his three junior hillbilly cohorts, catching his breath, sipping a cold beer, and grinning from ear to ear.

"C'mon, Trent. How was it? Was it fast?" Manny was really jumping up and down now.

Trent turned to look at them. "Yes. It was fast."

"How fast?" Manny was jumping up and down so much he was in the air more than he was on the ground.

Trent looked at them calmly. "Fast enough."

Joe looked at him with a pained expression. "C'mon, Trent. How was it? Tell us!"

Trent looked over at the boys. "Not bad, boys. Not bad at all. Kinda like old times." He felt the grin get even wider, if that was possible.

They all turned and watched as the Grantville patrol car eased down their street, and pulled slowly into the driveway. The car seemed to have a definite purpose, a focus, the way a police car will. The three boys looked at Trent. His mother stepped out onto the porch and looked at Trent. She was not smiling.

The police car stopped.

Trent put his feet up on the porch rail and leaned back. He felt better than he had in quite a while. For now, the world was right again. "Yup. Just like old times."