Chapter 31

Tuesday at school, a minor topic was my setting a course record at the country club. Most of the kids could care less about golf and golfers.

As Tom Humphrey put it, “Since you can’t play a real man’s sport like football, I’m glad there is something you can do.”

I let that one go, ignoring Humphrey’s comment. During an earlier golf practice, Tim and Gary had talked about how the Ex-Mayor couldn’t find a sponsor to join the country club.

No one liked him since he had a street in front of a competitor’s barbershop zoned no parking on both sides. This hurt the man’s business terribly.

Ex-Mayor Humphrey claimed there was too much traffic and that people were endangered by walking between cars to cross the street from one business to another. The warehouse across the street had been empty for the last twenty years, so that argument didn’t go down well.

Our class was given a paper to write in World History. It was to be ten pages long on any discussion question at the back of the next week’s chapter. There were all sorts of moans in class.

I had continued my habit of writing essays on every question in the back of each chapter. Since I was running a week ahead on these, I was able to pick and choose from two I had already done that actually exceeded the ten-page assignment.

Mr. MacMillan said we could turn them in as soon as they were completed. I couldn’t resist it. I turned my paper in at the end of the class. It was on why the Holy Roman Empire, wasn’t Holy, Roman, or an Empire.

Mr. MacMillan’s only comment, “I’ve heard about you.”

I wasn’t certain if that was good or bad.

Golf practice was playing the back nine. Coach gave me a physical handicap. I wasn’t allowed to use any numbered club lower than a five iron. He claimed I needed to work at different distances.

So instead of a driver and a nine iron to get to the green, I would use a five iron twice. I didn’t see how that would help. I made the mistake of saying that out loud. I was told that tomorrow it would be the six irons or higher, I would get used to odd distances!

Coach also passed out a sheet of paper with the dates of the Ohio State boy’s golf tournament. The first event, the Sectional was October 18-19, the District was October 25-26, and the State Championship October 31-November 1.

We would arrive on a Thursday night so we could get in a practice round on Friday before the tournament. I asked where they were being played.

“The Northwest section, Sectional matches are at Stone Ridge golf course at Bowling Green, Ohio, the District matches are held at the Red Hawk course in Findlay, and the championship at the Ohio State Scarlet and Gray course.”

“Will we drive back and forth to Bowling Green,” I asked?

“No, we will be staying in dorm rooms at BG University.”

“How much will that cost?”

“Rick, that was included in your golf fees for the year. We assumed you would play in the Sectional and charged you for it, after that if you move to District and State the school will pick it up.”

“I never paid any golf fees.”

“Oh, that’s right, Phil Thompson had, he moved and the fees are non-refundable. I have the money in my budget for the event so I never thought about billing you. Just consider yourself lucky this year.”

“Thanks, Coach Stone.”

After practice, I had the bus drop me off downtown on the way back to school. I stopped at Bailey’s Hair Salon. This is where Mum had her hair done, and she had called Mrs. Bailey that morning so she was expecting me.

The hairdryers she had were the sort that was on a pedestal. Ladies would sit under the dryer for thirty to sixty minutes depending on the amount of hair they had. I tried to read the metal plate on one to find out how many watts it was and the rpm of the motor. There was nothing helpful. She asked me if the supplier’s catalog from Sunbeam might help. It at least referred to 300 watts but gave no idea of the motor speed.

I asked if I could look at the hairdryer a little closer. Mrs. Bailey allowed me to remove the cover. This was held in place by snap-on clips. Apparently, it had to be cleaned out frequently because of all the hair clippings.

I was able to get the Ametek motor model number from its serial plate. After replacing the cover and thanking Mrs. Bailey, she asked why I wanted all this information. I told her I was trying to figure out how to make a handheld unit.

“If you do I would love to buy one,” she replied.