Chapter 8

Lordy! I just read it ... it being chapter 7. I had no idea. I AM sorry.

I did find Arthur McDaniel and his boat ... and molds ... and I did buy them ... but first I had an obligation to Mrs. Montgomery.

Damn airplane.

I didn't need it, I didn't want it, I had no place to put it. Talk about a gift horse.

I shoulda looked.

Howsomever ... it wouldn't have made a lick of difference ... the difference was the auction.

No ... it wasn't Montgomery's auction. No. There was an auction up in Scobey. That's in northeast Montana and not all that far from the lake ... but still in the US.

The auction was for an estate ... never mind who ... just go with it. The estate was for parts and pieces of Americana ... and assorted junk and leftovers from the wars ... ONE and TWO ... and the period between. Mrs. Montgomery had the flyer ... it was tomorrow ... she would put me up for the night and give me explicit directions to the junk pile.

The place is slightly off the beaten path and Mrs. Montgomery was sure I could get the part I needed ... an engine for the plane ... dirt cheap. I mean ... who is going to go to an auction the worst part of beyond?

Everybody.

The Warner Super Scarab seven cylinder engine was way down at the bottom of the page ... Mrs. Montgomery's thumb was pointing to it ... sorta. Mrs. Montgomery's thumb was obscuring quite a bit of real estate above the engine and she wasn't letting go ... so I didn't get to read about the airplanes.

I got there early ... the place looked like Davis Monthan in 1946, engines and wings and empennage and wheels and nose-art and and and. Seems every collector in the free world was there and the bidding was to the moon.

I did a lot of standing and keeping my mouth shut. I'd been to auctions before.

Eventually, quite late, the Warner came up for bid ... Nine thousand dollars ... but it was mine. The engine came with a CAA certification so I bolted it up ... little did I know.

I took lessons from Franklin Smith at the Fort Peck Airport ... a rather pretentious affair for such a little town. Frank, a Nakoda Sioux, had a J-3 Cub and a sliding scale for lessons. If it was Friday the lesson was more expensive than Saturday. During the week it was the price of fuel..."It's more fun than fishing," he would say. Why he had such strange rates he wouldn't say.

However, his daughter said it was to get away from her mother.

Interesting.

Most of the time ... after I soloed ... Frank would stay on the ground and watch me do "touch and goes". If it was something important ... like spin recovery ... he flew with me ... for the first one.

"I'm not taking my life in your hands," he said.

"Putting," I said.

"Nope, taking." He would say. "Today is not a good day to die. You students are crazy."

"What?"

"I never understood why anyone would want to fly."