Chapter 7: What Have I Got?

Well, I now have the most money I’ve ever owned at one time. Fifteen dollars and thirty five cents, forty five if you add, count my shim gauge dime in the ashtray.

It was ten pm when we got to town. Near Mr Moses’ house, he asked me to stop and let him out. Said he wanted to walk the rest of the way home. Stretch his legs a bit. He trusted me to safely put the haywagon in the barn, the one he rented and Dad prepared for it. Said he was too exhausted to unnecessarily ride all the way out to the farm and all the way back to town again, just to watch me put the haywagon away. His house is less than three blocks from where I stopped, an easy walk.

Would I be planning to come for the vehicles tomorrow? Afternoon is best for him, he plans to sleep in.

“How much money did you have on you, the day we signed the contract?”

Was that before I gave Mom a downpayment? No, it was after Dad gave me a fiver for setting up the meet with Mr Moses. How much did I have?

“Ten dollars.”

“How much do you have left” Thirty five cents in silver.

“Here is ten to make you whole, as we contracted, and five more for the meals you refused and any gas you’re short. Thank you Rick.

We must plan on doing this again very soon. Goodnight.”

And he walked away. I’m now richer and more tired than I’ve ever been. Why wasn’t I tired just a minute ago? Maybe because the trip wasn’t over yet and now it feels like it is. Anticlimactic. Well, it ain’t over till that fat lady I’m towing is in the barn, safe, and the doors barred, chained, and padlocked. Giddy-up beast!

Dad let me sleep until I had to take Mom to work. She likes how beast rides with the full water tank in the back. May be something to think about.

After I left Mom at work, I went to the dump and bought all the parachute cord there was, at a quarter a skein. Thirteen skeins. One was a free bonus thrown in for a bulk purchase. I paid three bucks for twelve. Isn’t thirteen an unlucky number? Not today! Took them home and stretched one skein out to measure it. Fifty feet. Nice With the salvaged cord from the weeds, I can now make a trot line between seven hundred and seven hundred fifty feet long. More than two football fields long. Should be plenty long enough, I think.

Maybe make two trot lines half as long, for setting in two different areas? Make some tests. Which ever set produces best, leave it and try the other line in a new place. Keep moving the worst producer. End up with two stupendous producers eventually. Don’t know if it’s a workable plan, but it’s a lovely dream. Two trot lines is my plan.

When I got back, I drove straight to the wharf. My intention is to drain that crop sprayer tank into the slough rather than make a mud puddle somewhere. Dad hasn’t kicked off yet, a surprise, normally he would have left nearly an hour before now. It appears he’s just about to leave. I tease him about the tardy start.

“Back already?” Dad just grins.

“Anything going on with you today?”

Dads teasing me. He knows it’s payday. I’m going to pick up my scooter and NEW CAR! Wow, I like the sound of that.

“Want to come with me?”

“You know what? Yes I would. If you’ll come with me later, to help haul the few pots I left out.” More than half still remain in the water.

Sounds like we are neither of us planning to work the land today. I like THAT! A day off from cultivating. Hallelujah.

“Sounds great Dad. Moses doesn’t want me there before noon, he’s sleeping in.”

“Too bad we didn’t know earlier, we could have slept in too.”

Dad sleep in? Now that IS funny. I opened the petcock to drain the tank. Tell Dad I might fix up a permanent tank some how, to carry weight without losing the bed space. Dad thinks there’s room between the frames for several pancake tanks in spots. Do-able.