Chapter 1

There’s sure not much to do when you’re a sixteen year old boy living in Riverton, a small river town in southeast Missouri. Unless you can call going to school nine months out of the year exciting. I don’t really mind school, but I can’t say that I’m excited either, every morning when I have to get up and go to school.

Mom and Dad both work and they’re gone when my alarm goes off in the mornings. It’s a major feat for me to even find the energy to get out of bed, get a shower and get dressed.

What I need is a job. A part-time job that will fill the hours that I’m not sleeping or in school. I want a car – any car is fine with me, as long as I can get around without having to ride my bike or hitch a ride with Mom or Dad.

I know a couple of girls who I think look good, and I like being around them – they appear to like like me too and I’ve wanted to ask one or even both of them out ... at different times, of course.

It’s hard for a boy to ask a girl out, and have to pick her up for a date – when he’s walking or riding a bike.

I can’t really see me sacking groceries or stocking shelves and there just aren’t a lot of other jobs available in this small town.

The second Monday after school opened the third week of August in 1965, I was walking to school on the same sidewalk and the same street I’ve always walked, when I heard the sound of a car horn.

I looked up to see a young woman parked in front of the small wooden garage where Mr. Patch Coleman has his repair shop. Her hood is up on her car and she’s tinkering with something under the hood ... cussing like a sailor.

Well, the way I had always heard folks say a sailor cussed. I’ve never known a sailor myself.

This woman was really mad and just as I walked by, she looked at me with a scowl.

“Young man, do you know Mr. Coleman ... and what time he opens this God forsaken shit-hole of a repair shop of his?” She spoke as if she were mad at me.

She’s taller than me by two inches, with her high heels on. She’s not bad looking at all. She’s dressed in a conservative gray business suit with a skirt that comes to her knees and a short jacket over her white frilly blouse. Nope, she’s not bad looking at all, and I guessed her to be at least twenty years old.

“Well Ma’am, I know him but not personally ... that’s about all.”

“Do you know anything at all about cars? This damned thing is about to drive me fucking crazy and I need to get over to Martinsville to work.”

“Not really Ma’am, but I’ll look under there if you like, and see if I can spot something that might be wrong. I help my Dad service his car and watch him tinker with it.”

“Well throw them books on my seat and get your ass over here ... I’m in a hurry and it looks like Mr. Coleman’s going to sleep all day.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

I put my books in her seat – on the driver’s side and walked around to the front of the car.

“Start it up, if it’ll run,” I told her.

“Well of course it will run ... I drove it here. You must be a real dumb-ass.”

She growled at me, and I almost got my books and walked off.

But I didn’t.

She started the car and stepped on the gas. The engine was miss-firing so bad it was shaking the whole car.

“Shut if off Ma’am, “ I hollered at her and started moving the spark plug wires and coil wires. Anything I could see that might be loose under there. I had seen my Dad do this lots of times and I did what he did.

Sure enough, I found two spark plug wires that had backed off the tip of the spark plug and I knew that was enough to make her car mis-fire. I shoved the rubber boot on the end of the spark plug wires up tight on all the spark plugs and looked the coil wires over.

There was a small strand of wire on one terminal, that was sticking out close to the main coil wire. I twisted it back on the terminal with the other strands. She was under the hood with her neck strained out to see what I was doing.

“Crank it up now, Ma’am and see if that’s any better.”

“Hell, you didn’t do a damn thing but fiddle with the damn wires. How in the hell do you think that would make the motor run better? I’m telling you there’s something bad wrong with this fucking, piece of shit car.”

She was madder’n hell, like it was all my fault she was late and her car was messing up.

She hit the starter, and the car fired off ... running like it was new.

I picked up a grease rag laying near the door of the garage, wiping my hands as she got out of her car and walked up to me.

“You need to open up your own shop ... How much do I owe you?” She asked as she finally smiled, and fumbled in her purse.”

“Ma’am, you don’t owe me anything. I’m just glad your car’s running good and you can get on over to Martinsville now.”

“Nonsense! Here take this dollar at least,” She said.

“Ma’am, you keep your dollar and have a good day...”

That pissed me off. If she hadn’t offered to pay me anything, I would’ve accepted that. But to offer me a danged dollar was like a slap in the face.

I saw Mr. Patch Coleman walk out of the side door of his house and head over here.

“Good Morning folks ... sorry I was a little late this morning. I had to help my wife. She’s in a wheelchair and can’t do some things for herself at times. What can I do for you folks this morning?”

“Well it’s about fucking time you got out here. My car engine was running bad – this young man fixed the fucking thing for me – no thanks to your lazy ass. I tried to pay him a dollar and he refused,” She railed at him.

“What was wrong with it, Danny?” He turned to me...

I didn’t even know that he knew me, let alone knew my name.

“Just some plug wires that had backed off the plugs a bit and a small ground wire on the coil that was jumping fire from the main coil wire running to the distributor cap.”

“Ma’am, you owe this boy fifteen dollars, and unless you pay, I’m impounding your car,” He said as he walked past her and took the keys out of the ignition.

“You can’t do this! You’re sorry son-of-a-bitch ... You weren’t even open for business and you never even touched my car. I’ll have the police on your sorry ass before you can turn around.” She was really mad and cussing now.

“You’re vehicle is on my property. You pulled in here for repairs and your car has been repaired. This young man works for me as of this morning ... If you don’t pay him, I’ll be the one to call the police and have them impound this car at the city hall until the repair bill is paid. You’ll have to pay the fee to get it out, as well as the bill for the repairs,” Mr. Coleman looked her in the eye and talked to her in a steady voice that left no doubt he was telling her the truth.

“Here’s your God Damned money. I’ll have my daddy come down here and take up this matter with you. You won’t get away with this ... You just wait until you find out who my daddy is. You’ll wish you had never met me.” She screamed, threw a five and a ten dollar bill at me and started crying.

“I already wish I had never met you Ma’am. Now clear my driveway so I can open for business.

“By the way, tell your daddy to come on down and have a cup of coffee with me sometime ... I ain’t seen the Mayor in a while.” Mr. Coleman smiled at her and handed her the keys to her car.

She slammed the car in reverse, backed out of the driveway and took off down the street like she was in a race.

“Danny, I appreciate what you did, by helping that girl. I hate that she was rude to you and that she acted like a fool out here. You come back by here after school today, and you can help me clean up this place and do small repairs like the one you just did. Most of my mechanical work is just what you did ... maybe changing points and plugs once in a while, and I’ll teach you how to do that. I’ve been needing some help anyway,” He told me.

“Thanks Mr. Coleman, I’ll be here as soon as school’s out,” I said as I turned to leave. I was running late myself.

I stopped and looked around...

My books are in that young woman’s car, and she left here just mad enough to throw them out.

“What’s wrong Danny?” Mr. Coleman asked when I stood like I was in a daze.

“I left my books in her car ... with my homework in them,” I told him.

“You go on to school and tell the principal and your teachers what happened. If they need to check your story, tell them to call me.”

There wasn’t a lot that made Patch Coleman lose control of his thinking. I would learn that about him even more as I got to know him better. He was just as calm and collected as they come.

“Yes Sir, I reckon that’s about all I can do right now.”

I had a little trouble at first with the teachers believing me about my books and homework, but I had never failed to turn my homework in and they kinda believed me. Mr. Walton, the principal, did call Mr. Patch. I found that out when I stopped by his garage after school.

I had no idea what I was going to do about my books. I knew Mom and Dad wouldn’t be real happy with me if they had to buy more books. I was almost sick to my stomach worrying about all this ... and all I did was try to help somebody.

“Well Danny, how did it go at school when you told them the story of how you lost your books and homework?” Mr. Patch asked, when I walked into his garage.

“They finally believed my story. I figure Mr. Walton called you is the reason.”

“He did and I told him that he should give his students the benefit of the doubt, not all of them would lie about their homework,” he said.

“I sure appreciate you letting me clean up around here and help you out. I really thank you too for sticking up for me with Mr. Walton,” I told him as I picked up the broom and started sweeping.

He went back to working under the hood of an older model pickup. I swept the whole shop and picked up the sweepings with a grain scoop and put them in the barrels out back.

I found the Oil Dry and sprinkled some fresh onto the heavy oil puddles around where he was working.

“Help me get this hood off this old truck Danny. I reckon I’m gonna have to pull this motor, it seems to be froze up from sitting out back so long.”

“Yes Sir,” I said and looked at where the hood was bolted to the hinges and got some wrenches to take it loose.

I got my side loose and he got his side loose. We set the hood over on some empty oil drums in the corner of the garage.

“You’re right handy to have around, Danny. I think I made a good call when I told the Mayor’s daughter I had just hired you,” he said, just as we heard a car horn outside.

“You mean that was Mayor Deans’ daughter that was cussing like that?” I said, as I looked out to see who it was.

“Mr. Patch, you better go out there and handle this ... Mayor Dean just drove up.” I stepped back into the garage. I didn’t really want to be jumped on by the mayor ... even if Mr. Patch was here with me.

“Patch, I thought I may need to come by and make things right, after my girl made an ass of herself this morning. She called me from work, cussing and hollering,” Mayor Dean said as he walked into the front door.

“Well Harold, she was a might upset - but my new hired help fixed her car for her and I think she was still upset because she was late for work.”

Mr. Coleman talked with his smooth easy way of talking.

“I understand Patch, I sure do. That girl is high-strung like her Momma and they just about keep me busy going around behind them, putting out fires. I’m sure glad Missy took after me.

“Missy, bring this boys books in here for me, girl,” He looked back at the car and I saw someone getting out on the passenger side.

“Hi Danny, here’s your books,” Missy Dean said, as she handed me my books and smiled.

“Thanks, I sure hope your sister isn’t still mad at me.”

“She stays mad. She’ll get over it and one day she’ll be back to get her car worked on again. She drives it like it was a race car anyway,” Missy said, smiling at me again.

I’d seen her at school, but didn’t really know her. She’s fourteen and I’m sixteen – so we didn’t even have classes in the same building at school. I was starting the ninth grade and she was starting the seventh. She sure does look good though. She has freckles across her little short nose and her eyes are big and brown.

She has a smile that seems to just spread all over her face and she’s beginning to get some titties too. They look good to me, poking out against her tight shirt and I knew I had better stop looking at her, or her daddy would whack me.

“Danny, Mr. Dean asked you if he needed to pay you anything for helping his daughter ... after she was so rude to you.,” Mr. Patch said.

“Oh ... sorry Sir. Uh no, Sir. She’s already paid me what Mr. Patch told her to pay,” I stammered, as I looked at Missy again, she was smiling.

“Well, I need to get back to the office.

“Missy, are you going with me or are you going to walk home from here.”

“I’ll stay a while Daddy, and then go home. I’ll see you when you get home,” Missy said and hugged her Daddy.

I saw her short skirt ride up in back and I felt my face turn red as I looked.

I turned to see Mr. Patch grinning at me. I smiled at him and went to the back of the garage.

“Mr. Patch, may I talk to Danny for a minute? I won’t keep him from work long.”

I heard Missy ask Mr. Patch and I whipped my head around to make sure I really heard what she said, and didn’t just think I did.

“Sure Missy. He needs to take a break anyway. He just cleaned this whole place up ... did a good job of it too. Here’s two dimes, get him and you a Coke and sit there under that tree out there and cool off,” Mr. Patch said, as I looked just at both of them.

“Here Danny. I sure hope you don’t mind that I asked Mr. Patch if we could talk a while,” She said as she handed me the bottle of Coke she’d bought from the old Coke machine in his shop.

“Uh no, Missy. I sure do appreciate you and your Dad bringing my books by. You could’ve just brought them to school and I’d have gotten them.”

I looked at her freckles as she smiled. Her nose kinda wrinkled up and made her eyes crinkle in the corners when she smiled. We were sitting beside each other and I could see her face good.

“Oh, but I wanted to come with Daddy when he told me he was stopping by here. Mom has been over to Martinsville today and she stopped by to see Helen. That’s when Helen told her all about this morning. Then Mom brought your books back by Dad’s office and I was there after school was out, so I rode with him,” she explained it all to me.

“How old are you, Danny?” She asked, smiling again. She sure smiles a lot, and I like her smile.

“I turned sixteen in July.”

I looked into her eyes and then at her shoulder length hair, that hugs her neck and the sides of her face.

“I’ll be fifteen next March. There’s not much difference in our ages, is there?”

“No, not that much. I just started the ninth grade and you’re in the seventh aren’t you?”

“Yes, how did you know that?”

“I saw a girl talking to you one day and I asked her who you were and how old you were.”

“You did?” Her eyes flew open.

“Yeah, I thought you were older and maybe a new girl or something.”

“You really thought I was older?” She asked and her nose did that little crinkly thing again, as it raised way up when she smiled.

“Yeah, you don’t look like the other fourteen year old girls ... you act older. You sure have changed a lot and you’re growing up really fine.” I felt my face turn red and I looked away.

“Yeah I guess I am growing up more now that I’m a teenager. So what did you think, when the girl told you who I was and how old I was?”

“I thought she was kidding at first, then she turned to another girl and they both said the same thing.”

“I see you riding your bike to school sometimes. Do you ever ride over on Baker Street, on your way to school?”

“I did ride that way once or twice. It was right after I saw you and asked that girl who you were. I never saw you outside and I stopped going by your house. I didn’t want somebody to see me and think I was about to steal something.”

“I had a flat on my bike this morning and didn’t ride it. I reckon I’d have been better off if I had ridden it.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have made your sister mad at me. I would’ve cut through by your house and gone to school that way.”

“Yeah, but then we wouldn’t be here talking and drinking a Coke together.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Are you going to get your flat fixed today?”

“Yeah. I’ve got an air pump and some patches. I carry in a little tool bag on my bike. I’ll fix it when I get home.”

“Ride by my house in the morning, and I’ll ride to school with you. That is, if you don’t have a girlfriend who’ll get mad at me.”

“No, I don’t have one. I bet you’ve got a boyfriend though.”

“Nope ... I don’t. What time do you usually leave home when you ride your bike?”

“About ten minutes to eight. It takes me five minutes to get to your house and another ten minutes to get to school.”

“I’ll be ready when you get there. Can we be friends now that we’re going to ride to school together.”

“I’d like that ... and I like you,” I felt my face get red.

“Thanks, I like you too. I can’t have boyfriends yet ... but I can have friends.”

“Then you and I’ll just be friends.”

“I better go before Mr. Patch tells me I can’t come back. I’m glad we talked and I’m really glad we’re going to be friends, Danny.”

“Me too Missy, and thanks.”

“You can call me Melissa, if you like. My Dad just calls me Missy cause I’m his little girl.”

“See you in the morning, Melissa.”

“See you Danny.” She looked at me and smiled. I smiled back.

“Bye Mr. Patch.” She hollered as she walked back through the garage and out the door.

“She’s a nice girl Danny ... pretty too.”

“She sure is. Her name’s Melissa and she’s in the seventh grade ... She’s fourteen.”

We watched her walk out to the sidewalk and turn back to wave, her skirt swirled around her long legs as she turned. We waved and went back to work.

“Danny, take the spark plugs out of this old engine and I’ll shoot the cylinders full of penetrating oil. We’ll let her set over night. I’ve seen the rings come unstuck by doing this and we can get this old piece of junk out of here.”

“Yes Sir, Mr. Patch.”

“Danny, just call me Patch. We’ll be working here together, and I’m just Patch to everyone.”

“Yes, Sir. Whose old Studebaker truck is this anyway, Patch?”

“It’s mine. It’s been sitting out yonder in the shed for about fifteen years. I parked it out there when I bought a new one in 1950. The man wouldn’t give me but $250.00 for it on a trade. Said a 1937 Studebaker wasn’t worth anything – so I kept it. That old shed is about to fall in and I thought I’d get this old truck out – get it running and sell it.”

“Really? How much do you want for it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s according to how much it costs to get it running, I reckon. Why? Do you know someone who may want this old thing?”