Chapter 25

The Farr 3.7 needs a trailer. Something I can do myself. It looks like a pair of bedrails ... maybe three rails would be a better fit.

Hmm?

A simple T ... one long handle with piece of pipe ... maybe a straight bicycle handlebar with one grip bolted in for a handle. a six foot ... maybe five and a half crossbar with axle stubs welded or U bolted through each end of the cross. A couple of angle braces ... small wheels ... Rex Industrial ... the Harbor Freight of Dunedin.

“Jimbo?”

I’d met him on the street as I was taking my new clothes to the Launderette. Mattie was right by my side, disapproval written by the very stance and stride of every step. There was muttering and name calling all the way. I cherished each one.

“Mel?”

“I need some dolly ... sorry ... hand cart wheels. Two wheels. If I can’t find some I’ll have to buy.”

“What for?”

“A trailer for my Farr 3.7.”

“You have a Farr?” Jimbo said, “Where did you get it?”

“I built it.”

“No ... really?”

“Every swearword and curse.” I said. “I built 12 of them.”

“Why?”

“Lessee, Cyn took the first one ... Cyn is my older sister. My brother, JW, took the third. I built seven for friends, I got the last one.”

Jimbo had been paying attention. “What about the second?”

“I had a better idea.”

“Didn’t work?”

“Nope...” I proceeded to tell him how much trouble I’d had giving it away.

“That’s eleven ... what?”

“I sold mine to an old guy ... some past National 3.7 Champion ... and built another. I had a regular production line going after work and weekends.”

“Wait ... work?”

“Apprenticeship to a cabinetmaker.”

By now Mattie was steaming.

“What’s the matter, Mattie?” I oh so innocently asked.

“You’re RICH! What were you thinking?”

“I have a little money ... I intend to keep it. That’s why I’m going to wash my own clothes.

“I do the laundry on the boat ... it’s part of the mid to six duties. I steer, watch the radar, forward looking sonar, plot and navigate. When we had a Captain I took sea classes. Engine-room maintenance. Our nanny taught us the standard math, english, penmanship. I learned geography through four circumnavigations, I’ve been at sea since I was six.”

“When we were born, mom read to us ... not kid stuff. Britain, France, and the chivalrous nations ... Matter of Britain, Matter of France, Historia Regum Britanniae, The Death of Arthur, Book of Chivalry, Song of Roland, Cantar de Mio Cid, The Twelve of England, the Knight’s Tale, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and The Book of the Coutier.

“Sitting in our highchairs she fed us pablum and Gerber’s and Physics, Chemistry, Biology. We got swordsmanship and Japanese Martial Arts theory while we pooped.

“Mathematics, spelling, grammar, and gardening, identification of weeds and mushrooms, while learning to walk. We never walked without purpose. We were on the paths and trails of Appalachia from our first steps.

“When we were three and four, mom read to us from the Marine Corps Officers Manual ... and geography, history and open ocean navigation.

“Mom was delving into subjects she never knew existed. She soaked it up like a sponge. We babies reacted to it like our mother.

“Mom hired foreign nationals to act as nannies on the condition that they never spoke English to us. She wanted us to learn other languages and from one year old to about seven is the best time to do it. We know and make all the sounds ... we eliminate the ones we never hear used.”

You know ... I was proud of it. I had tears in my eyes and near to sobbing.

I miss my mom! I don’t care who knows it.

Mattie and Jim were staring at me ... jaws nearly dragging.

Mattie said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry ... I didn’t know. I understand.” She turned to walk away.

“Mattie! Don’t! You, Albert and Jim are the only friends I’ve got. I have acquaintances all over the world. You guys liked me before you knew. Don’t change.”

“You’re paying me! I feel like a thief.”

“You want to go to university ... I’d give you the money. I respect you for wanting to earn it. Albert, too. Where did he get that nifty car?”

Yup ... trying to change the subject.

Jim said, “The Royce? You’ve seen Albert’s Rolls?”

“He took us to town, why?”

“That car was a total junk heap ... headed for the scrapers. His Dad bought it for junk and gave it to Albert.

‘This car is the only one I’ll give you. It had better be running by the time you are legal to drive.’

“Albert was 10.

“Nobody rides in the Rolls. Albert seldom takes it out. It’s his baby.

“He took you to town?”

“Mattie did it,” I said. It was an accusation.

“You convinced Albert to drive the Royce to Dunedin? Mattie?”

“Mr. Howard hired him. He’s Melody’s chauffeur.”

Jimbo glared at me.

“I swear I didn’t know! I thought we were out for a lark,” I turned to Mattie, “That’s it ... you both are getting scholarships, want ‘em or not. Where do I send the check? Never mind ... I’ll ask your Dad.”

Sorting by color and fabric, we checked for tags, pins and junk. We put my clothes in the washers, added unscented detergent, set the machines for pre-soak, cold wash and rinse, gentle fabric. The jeans went in a separate machine ... I wanted them hot and heavy ... jeans blue always leaks through. The machines took tokens. I bought them from the dispenser.

There was an attendant, I negotiated a price for drying.

Wash started, I grabbed Mattie by the figurative ear and we walked straight up George and the Union Co Cafe.

The waitress and had already met. She knew Mattie by her real name.

“Mathilda, how are you?”

Naturally, Dad in the back heard his daughter’s name taken in vain and stuck his head out, “Miss Flintkote. What have you done to give Mattie that sour face.”

My fault ... see the guilt writ large on my countenance... “I pissed her off by doing my own laundry.”

“Oh my ... such a crime. I congratulate you. What can I do for you?”

“Two full ... oops ... three full English and coffee. and a bend of your ear. Hi Jimbo. Sit.”

Dad soon had it before us. He sat. “Speak. My ear is bent.”

“Where has Mattie decided to go to university?”