Chapter 12: WHAT TO MAKE OF IT

The scooter works perfectly for Mom. It’s painted bright yellow with a very good, maybe best quality paint. Road marking paint. Bought a five gallon full can at the dump for a buck. Dad helped me paint it. Rolled and tipped. Better, smoother than spraying. Dad showed me how. Roll on the paint, then come back with a nearly dry and empty brush, and lightly stroke, always in one direction, to remove the tiny bubbles the roller leaves. The paint levels into the fine light brittle marks and results in a perfect smooth paint job. Another advantage is no overspray. Paint only goes where you apply it. Mom added some wicker baskets where they’re handy for her accessories, and now she goes and comes from work on her own wheels, except when it’s raining or threatening to. I chauffeur her in the beast wet days.

Dad is real pleased with me, for sacrificing my own projects for a liberating gift to Mom. Glad to do it and I was real proud when Johnny expressed his admiration for me, in a reply to Mom writing about the scooter gift with glowing appreciation.

What am I going to do with the remainder of the King Midget? Already did it. I assembled the sheet metal body. The entire car fits in the bed of the beast. Both the beast and the King are painted slick road stripe yellow, and look like a mated pair. Now when I go to the drive in movie, I park backwards, and my date and I, or more frequently both dates and I, squeeze into the midget car in the back, which now faces the movie screen. It’s pretty cozy, but then, isn’t that the main idea? Snuggly?

Many modifications and refurbishments occur frequently in an effort to make the interior, the cabin I call it, the most comfortable possible. Perfection eludes me. I keep experimenting and making alterations

Being worshiped is addictive. No other description is adequate to describe my relationship with Marshall. Jeanette acts reserved, cool, reticent, aloof, demure, and distant with me, which I believe indicates a crush or puppy love on her part. Marshall anf I begin privately to call Jeanette “HER LADYSHIP”, because she seems to be sniffing rarefied high altitude air, her nose is pointed so high. It’s a defensive mechanism, the same as tucking her skirt around her and under her, so it won’t ride up, reclining in the King.

All the tease is gone out of Jeanette, she’s playing hard to get. Marshall is the exact opposite, the epitome of how to do the impossible with nothing. She has no curves at all, yet she’s all wiggle with nothing to wiggle. Fascinates me to watch her attempting to act sexy.

I’m very restrained showing either of them affection. A kiss on Marshall’s cute nose can elicit a fiery passionate devouring kiss, that movie makers wouldn’t dare to attempt releasing to the public. An offer to kiss Jeanette, chastely on the cheek, is repulsed, and she offers me the back of her hand, not a backhand swat, to kiss. Her Ladyship is putting on extreme airs. Not attractive. Can’t tell her.

The first time Jeanette refused an invite to go to the drive-in and Marshall and I went alone together, was a difficult evening for me. Without Jeanette’s presence to inhibit her Marshall became entirely too uninhibited. My virtue was under assault through two full feature films, a short, and half a dozen cartoons. An eight year old, nearly nine year old on the make. I would break off relations with Marshall, but I like her so very much, I would miss her terribly. Yes, she’s my half sister. And the other half is all amorous girlfriend, in a compact pint size. Marshall is a petite fireball, while Jeanette is all legs and attitude. Eventually, Jeanette falls by the wayside, and Marshall is my solitary dedicated sidekick. She’s constantly by my side, even crabbing with me. She’s my buddy, among the other relationships we share. And she’s my best friend.